


I, Champion

by JoshFly8



Series: Pokemon Extended Universe [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoshFly8/pseuds/JoshFly8
Summary: Even before he became the most powerful person in the world, Smithley was a trainer first and foremost. There can be nothing without a beginning, nor an end without a middle. From the lowlands of Sinnoh's Great Marsh to the far reaches of Alola's highest peak, he knew what he wanted most... and how to attain it. There was something out there worth saving, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

"Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me to file these memos for you? I-I mean, if you're done-"

"That's fine, Clarice. Thank you."

With nary a sigh, Smithley glanced out of the frost-glazed window mere inches from his visage, only half-paying attention to his attendant's shuffling of the files amassed on the desk behind him, nothing but a small burden of what this position had to offer.

World Champion? More like a World Sham. Or something like that.

As quickly as she had come, Clarice slipped away from his office and shut the door as tightly as she possibly could, perhaps afraid of what would occur if she lingered. Smithley elicited a breath from his lips, feeling pity for the woman. He continued to gaze out of his window across the green-tipped fields of Lily of the Valley Island, which offered a small piece of solace from what had been a turbulent few weeks.

He knew his subordinates were still afraid of him. They didn't have to be, though he didn't particularly blame them after the horrific bashing given to their prior leader.

How had the old champion fallen so easy? Was that all his predecessor had to offer?

Smithley chuckled to himself, choosing to ignore the scenery of the island for a few moments. He turned back to his desk, eyebrows furrowed at the mounds of legal documents still awaiting his signature. It was about now he was starting to wish there was a warning label that came with being the new champion; defending his title wasn't going to be enough. Despite how well Magcargo and Talonflame had performed in the victory match, they weren't going to be able to help him here.

Nor would Blaze...

Where was Blaze, anyway?

Smithley twirled a navy-blue pen around his fingertips, knowing his partner was scouring every nook and cranny of their new home here on Lily of the Valley Island. The thought comforted him as he burned through the nearest file, earmarked for funds to the Indigo League Officer Corps.

Then it'd be off to Johto... and Kanto... and Kalos and Orre and Hoenn and Almia and-

Oh, Arceus.

It was starting to become a bit much.

Blaze's aura tinged in the confines of Smithley's mind as his right hand ached from the constant signing, pushing the completed results into a tray at the corner of the oaken desk. His partner wormed his way into the mental bond they shared, expressing disgust at the sheer volume of work to be done.

 _"You really thought we'd end up here, old friend?"_ Smithley thought, always acutely aware when Blaze was peering in.

_"..."_

_"Well?"_

_"... Perhapsss."_

_"You could always do with one less hard s, you know. Strengthening your vocabulary does wonders."_

And as suddenly as he had come, Blaze withdrew with mild irritation. It was certain he knew he was beaten, even while stretching his wings around the island with ever-increasing vigor. The new champion smiled, knowing his partner had always despised any interest in the linguistic arts.

Not as if Blaze could actually speak, anyway. It was a valid position, though stunted by the limitations of what Pokemon could muster as speech.

Shaking the retreating fringes of Blaze's mind, Smithley's thoughts returned to the weight of his position. As absurd as it sounded, it existed. And he had a responsibility to it.

A responsibility he intended to uphold.

Funny, he mused. The world seemed too big to warrant such a thing, though there were many who so desperately wanted a champion to protect them. Obviously, dictatorial control would be pushing it, but there were quite a few perks associated with the position.

At first, it sounded like an unattainable goal over the years, but it slowly became within reach the stronger Smithley grew. It was only a shame such strength wouldn't help him now as he perused through yet another file, this time detailing something about a dispute over the Sinjoh Ruins.

"Individual sovereignty my ass," he muttered, scribbling a statement that would allow litigation to continue. Of all the unlikeliest spats between Johto and Sinnoh, it had to be this one.

The champion straightened the papers contained within, pushing them aside and reaching for a magenta-colored packet. Smithley's eyes wandered across the file, hoping he'd be able to get some ball-to-the-wall training done with his team before the end of the day. Alas, it was not to be as he groaned existentially; there was absolutely no way this could be happening right now. Unfortunately, he saw only one possible remedy to resolve this issue.

"CLARICE!"

"I-I'm coming, sir," the woman responded, bursting through the doors of his office. A tinge of red was splayed across her facial features with a dash of fluster. "What do you n-need?"

"Isn't this supposed to be a state matter? Why do I have jurisdiction in... this Team Aqua and Magma thing? Hoenn's Pokemon League should be handling this, no?"

"Champion Stone needs your permission to excavate both caverns. International law guarantees protection to these areas," Clarice explained, adjusting her plastic-rimmed glasses for the millionth time. "That's why it's in the purple file. Technicalities."

"Ah. Thanks, Clarice."

"My pleasure, sir," she responded, Smithley noticing her body language slowly growing more confident by the second. "By the way, I've been told to remind you of your two o'clock appointment. Cynthia is waiting in the lounge for you, sir. Shall I send her in?"

"Ah, yes. Please do."

The champion muttered to himself, tossing the Hoenn file aside in frustration. As Clarice retreated to fetch the jewel of Sinnoh, he ran a hand through his hair to alleviate the forgetfulness of the appointment, noting its scraggly length.

A solid cut later would have to do. First were more pressing issues, starting with whatever the head of the Sinnoh League deemed so important as to come here in person today.

Almost on cue and quicker than a Rotom's flash, Cynthia Shirona snaked past the enameled doors of Smithley's office, her black-clad trappings swaying in the air. A flickering fire burned in the corners of her eyes, something he recognized as prevalent in nearly any trainer who was worth their salt. Indeed, if her Garchomp was anything to go by, she was no joke on the battlefield.

"Cynthia."

"... Champion."

"Please," he begged, wishing to disseminate the tension in the room, "call me Josh."

Sinnoh's leader allowed the corners of her lips to tug upwards, reaching to shake his outstretched hand. "Too pretentious for you already... _Josh?_ "

"You could say that."

"I thought so. It took me an eternity to get my staff to stop doing that to me," Cynthia sympathized, taking a seat in one of the nearby leather-bound chairs. "They never tell anyone about that part. Miss Champion this, Miss Champion that."

"I can tell. The paperwork isn't doing me any favors either," Smithley admitted, taking a seat in his own chair; its ermine-trimmed furs poked at his overcoat. "I'm telling you, Cynthia, the pomp and circumstance are irrelevant. Damn it, we're supposed to be here to define the art of Pokemon battling. Bonds. Breeding. Ranging. And what have you- I'm sure you get my point."

The Sinnoh native shrugged. "Government doesn't run itself, Josh. You know that."

"I do. Which brings us to the reason you're here."

"You catch on quickly."

"I didn't become world champion by having a hollow skull, as you may surmise."

"Fair," Cynthia continued. "Very well. At sixteen-hundred hours yesterday, a remote unit of the DRL-"

"Bring me up to speed here. DRL?"

"Dimensional Research Lab, Sinnoh branch. Burnet subcontracted some of her researchers out to monitor the anomalies we've been having here in the region. Weren't they covered in your security briefing?"

"Haven't gotten it yet," Smithley sighed, flipping through a yellow file absentmindedly. "It's only my first day. But do continue, please."

"Anyway, it came as a surprise when our League's headquarters lost contact with the unit at the aforementioned time. The wormholes mentioned in their reports have been nothing but stable, but they suddenly... vanished, for lack of a better word. There's been no reported contact with the anomalies either."

Smithley looked up from the file, a worrisome line scrunching across his forehead. "Cynthia, not that I don't care or anything, but why is this is a federal... uh, worldly... whatever you call it, sort of issue? I don't think dispatching an outfit of United Regions Intelligence would do us any good."

"You're right, but there's an overlap of Alolan and Sinnohian jurisdiction. We're asking you and the United Regions to intervene."

"Is this going to happen a lot?"

"Depends."

"Have it your way, then," caved the champion, feeling a small headache beginning to form. "I don't see a need for further discussion if I can be of considerable help. Now's a good time to flaunt things around a bit, anyway. Make a mark."

Cynthia smiled, crossing her arms in satisfaction. "Perfect. I knew you'd come around."

"Hey!" Smithley exclaimed, rising from his desk, "I'm only doing it because... wait, it's coming back to me. Is there more paperwork involved?"

"There's always paperwork involved."

"You've got to be kidding-

"One of us signed up for this job," Cynthia interrupted, adjusting herself to face the new champion, "and it wasn't me. Trust me, Josh, I don't envy you. Just do what you can."

"I don't know. It feels like I'm doing nothing with this legalese pounding me constantly, and it's only the first day in office. My apologies."

"No," Cynthia replied, making eye contact as she rose. "Don't be sorry. Be better. That's my advice, champion to champion."

A muted silence settled between the two for a solid minute, allowing Smithley a moment to process her words. They rang with the throngs of truth, despite his misgivings of the situation. It was true, perhaps, that he overextended himself. And the real truth was he  _knew_  exactly what the job entailed. The world needed a change, after all. It was time to create a new slate and brush away the old guard.

"Send the last guy a card yet?" Cynthia asked, easing to another topic with the grace of a Togekiss.

"He doesn't need one. It's lying in a ten-foot hole with his Espeon," smirked the champion, catching on to what she was doing. "You've seen the footage, I assume?"

"I did."

"I do feel bad for him, though. He seemed a decent man."

"He was. Not the most communicable, but he did try. It's funny, being there so long and thinking yourself unattainable," mused Sinnoh's champion. "To be at the top yet to fall so far. How humbling."

"You're not trying to gun for my position, are you?"

"Arceus no. I've got enough responsibility for two lifetimes. Have at it," Cynthia chuckled, sharing in the jest. "I should be going, though. The world doesn't stop revolving from dusk to dawn. You've got enough on your plate by the looks of those papers, anyway. Trust me, I've got no regrets.

 _Better than dealing with religiously-charged Pokemon cults_ , Smithley thought.

"Then I'm very glad to hear it. Thanks for coming, Cynthia; Clarice will show you out now."

Smithley gestured to the door behind Sinnoh's champion, the air remaining devoid of an answer despite the call for his secretary.

"CLARICE?"

"Coming!" flustered the girl, popping through as hurriedly as she could. "Yes, sir?"

"Would you escort this lovely lady out, please? We're done here."

Clarice composed herself quickly, only sacrificing barely a second of her professionalism. "Miss Shirona, please, I'll show you out. I trust you've had a pleasant time?"

"Wait," butted the champion, "Before I forget, I do have one last thing to ask- you realize we could've done this with a phone call, right?"

"Nah. I wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"Rumors?"

Cynthia elicited to ignore his question, instead giving a nod of affirmation to Clarice. She tilted her head towards Smithley one last time, giving him a sly wink. Sinnoh's champion followed Clarice out of the office, leaving the most powerful trainer in the world at a loss for words as their footsteps trailed further and further away. It was only several moments later that Smithley managed to collect his thoughts, wondering what to make of the encounter.

There was one phrase that continued to stand out to him, however. It rang in his head, demanding to be known.

"Be better," he mused, the floor under him click-clacking from the pacing of his boots. It echoed from one end of the room to another, its ebony walls boxing him in like a barricade to some long-lost memory.

"Where have I heard that before?"

Smithley returned to the head of the desk, slumping back onto the headrest of his chair. While picking up another file, his eyes came to the attention of a photograph nestled nearby; for all her shortcomings, Clarice had the unusual predisposition of decorating his desk with knickknacks. Nestled within the fringes of the photograph was the smiling visage of a fourteen-year-old in front of a large building. A navy-red jacket adorned his figure, obviously a symbol of sorts for the ancient structure behind him. Its foundations were solid as can be, yet looked so fragile at the same time.

Be better...

Yes, the new champion had heard that phrase before.  _Be better._

Five years ago to be exact.

Yes, five years ago.


	2. One: Five Years Ago

_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. To think otherwise would be foolish. - J.S._

* * *

  **~~0~0~~**

**One**

**Five Years Ago**

**~~0~0~~**

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

The raucous cheers of thirty students rang through Smithley's ears, their voices filling the academy yard with noises loud enough to scare away the local Mothims.

"Kill 'em, Dan!" shouted one, shaking a fist at the scene unfolding in the midst of the commotion. A small battlefield was set within, occupied with the clashes of a Drilbur and a Cranidos in fierce opposition of one another.

"C'mon, Ellie. Don't give in," Smithley muttered, rubbing his hands with considerable anxiety. "Just hold on."

All the while, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. Initiation day was no joke here at the academy, and if she couldn't hold on, there wouldn't be much of her reputation left to salvage.

_Like me._

Ellie desperately shouted a futile order to her Cranidos, lost in the din and thunder of the crowd's cheers. Before the Head Butt Pokemon could react, Drilbur lowered his torso for a vicious Skull Bash and charged forwards. In the blink of an eye, the mole made contact quite spectacularly and sent Ellie's partner flying across the yard with enough speed to make a Flareon look like a joke.

_BOOM!_

Cranidos hit the ground with a thud loud enough to make teeth chatter. The Pokemon's eyes were rolled up in the classic fainting pose, complemented with scratches scattered around her body. Ellie rushed forward to tend to her fallen friend, returning Cranidos to her Pokeball while tears threated to spill from her eyes.

 _Damn it,_  Smithley thought.  _It's off to hell in a cell for her._

"Bam!" roared Ellie's opponent, waving to the crowd. "And there you have it, folks. A real, tailored-honest-to-Arceus wipeout."

"DAN! DAN! DAN! DAN!" cried the throng of academy students, all too self-absorbed to care about anything else. They wanted an entertaining match and they got one.

If wipeouts could be described as anything, Dan Whitehouse was the living personification of one. Anyone who couldn't last a minute against his Drilbur...

Well, Ellie found out firsthand. It was in light of such a realization that Smithley rushed over to her while the crowd paid attention to Dan, reaching out to nudge her shoulder.

"Oh! Josh..." she muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. Most people can't do it the first time," he assured, rubbing her arm soothingly. "You wanted to work with Pokemon anyway, didn't you? At least you've got a chance."

"By battling, dummy. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to do mega evolution? Now I can't even..." Ellie sniffled, sobs racking her lithe frame.

"Let's get you up to your lodge, hm? C'mon, it'll be okay," Smithley consoled, taking the opportunity to help the girl to her feet.

Slowly, step by step, the both of them managed to squeak by the cluster of arms now surrounding Dan Whitehouse, none of them paying attention to the two stragglers, the survivors. It wasn't like anyone was going to notice.

The sun glinted off of Ellie's tears, which made Smithley all the more uncomfortable in the heat. His jacket wasn't doing him any favors, the red fabric trapping air molecules within. The gravity of both situations propelled him to hurry the girl as quickly as possible to Lodge Four, situated at the far end of the battlefield and far out of reach of the bloodthirsty crowd.

Admittedly, it was one of the more unusual initiations. Dan usually took the time to monologue afterward, but Smithley supposed the excitement of the day and the vigor of his supporters got to him in the end. If it hadn't been addressed yet, it certainly would be at dinner.

The fifteen-year-old grew more concerned as Ellie said nothing with each passing moment, only choosing to let loose one of the only things she had left- tears.

Fortunately, the pair reached the safety of the wooden lodge before things got worse. In mere minutes, Smithley managed to find the door to her room three floors above, grasping the key from her shaking hands and opening it with a flourish.

Sure, there were supposed to be  _rules._ Everyone was out at the moment, so it wasn't like it would matter.

Arceus was to be praised when the girl's tears managed to stop flowing as the door closed. She threw herself on the bed, hands clasped to her face.

It was in this small moment of silence that Smithley wondered if she was really prepared for initiation judging by the way things happened.

"Has Trev talked to you about this yet?" he asked.

"A little... b-but n-not really," Ellie sniffled, desperately trying to keep a hold on herself.

Smithley sighed. She had heart, at the very least. Though it was more worrying that Trevor didn't bother explaining the initiation to her sooner.

So much for a best friend.

"Okay, here's how this works. You either last a minute against him or you don't. If you did, you go straight to the trainer stuff. If you didn't, the academy places you somewhere else. Breeding, analytics, farming... your choice, so it's not all that bad."

"I-it is!"

"Alright, maybe it's a little bad. But wait a year or two and there might be a free spot in the-"

"But why? Why can't I? This isn't what I signed up for," Ellie cried. "My parents spent a fortune to send me here. If they find out-"

"They're still getting their money's worth. Ellie, it's not like battling is the only good thing coming out of this academy, you know. Education matters. And, besides... it's not like I can do anything about it. The president made it very clear what she wants in trainer graduates."

"Should... shoulda be in the brochure," she sighed, slowly starting to rationalize her situation. "They really gotta be more clear about that."

"I know. It sucks. I'm sorry Dan had to be the one to lay it into you. It happens."

"Why even him? I dunno, sounds like the professors should be doing it. They're teaching us, right?"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Smithley snorted, giving Ellie a reassuring pat. "They usually pick some senior to carry the thing out. Dan's got one of the best records out there, so they have him do it most of the time. His Drilbur is no slouch, as I think your Cranidos knows. How is she?"

"I'll find out when I get her to the center," mumbled the girl, thumbing the ball in which the Head Butt Pokemon rested. "She's a tough gal, though. I've got faith."

"Good. Faith is very important if you want to survive here," stressed the fifteen-year-old, taking a position on the floor. "From an oldie to a newbie... hang on to it."

Ellie brightened up for the first time that hour, the beginnings of a thought crossing her mind. "What was it like in your initiation? You failed, right? That's why you're not a trainer."

"Actually... I opted out. I don't even have a Pokemon."

"What? Why?!"

"Don't need one."

"Are you saying that just 'cause you didn't wanna fight?"

"Nah. Not really that interested in battling, honestly. I'm here for the statistics."

"The... wha? What is that supposed to mean?" Ellie stuttered. "Anyone who's who does hardcore training. Megas, gyms, contests... they all go for that. You're two years from graduation and you've got nothing?"

"Think, Ellie. Everything in this world... people, Pokemon, flowers, trees, nature! Don't you understand? It's their harmony that binds them all together. It's beautiful, it's just, it's kind. I want to find out why. So, I collect everything I can. I analyze. I make sense of why this world is the way it is."

"Sounds pretty vague to me."

"Yeah, that's fair."

Smithley lifted his hands, taking the opportunity to pace around the room. He stopped for a moment, then paced again. Then stopped. Then paced. After all, he would be lying to himself if he claimed to completely understand why he was here in the first place. Sure, the academy had a stellar reputation, but he supposed it was an excuse to get away. He was lost, floating adrift in the sea of life.

"How could you even pay to come here? Did your parents dump you or something?" Ellie asked after a while, seizing the chance to dig a little deeper.

Smithley shrugged. "I didn't want to blow all my inheritance on squat. Only good thing my pops ever left me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he ordered, a dark glint flashing behind his eyes. "He's gone now. I don't like to talk about it."

"Okay."

"You're going to be fine?"

"Yeah."

The fifteen-year-old nodded, giving Ellie one last pat for comfort. "Good. I'll see you in the mess for dinner?"

"Yep."

Nothing more needed to be said, so Smithley considered the matter closed. He stood up to leave, both him and Ellie understanding when there was a time for further words. He closed the door behind him, leaving her to contemplate in peace. Now nothing stood between him and her room save for the hallway, its ornamental colors momentarily dazing him. Too much red for his taste.

It was quiet. Unearthly. Either everyone was in class or participating in the midday soiree outside. Nothing stirred save for the reflection gazing at Smithley from the laminate floors, an obvious extravagance for the student lodges.

Who could even afford laminate, anyway? Certainly, Granite Hills Academy could, especially at the rate they were cranking out proficient battlers.

Smithley left the lodge as hurriedly as he could, trampling down staircase after staircase until he reached the bottom, making sure he wasn't being stalked. All the while, Ellie's words continued to echo the back of his head as a ringing call to action.

_This isn't what I signed up for._

_Do you know how much I wanted to try megas?_

_Why even him?_

The fifteen-year-old stepped outside, feeling a gentle breeze wash over him. It rollicked across the nearby mountainside, giving Smithley a moment of clarity in the turbulent storm of his life. As far as the eye could see, rocky outcroppings continued to stretch across the western portion of the island in which he stood upon. And, if he could squint his eyes just right, he could see the outline of the radio tower over on Renbow.

For all the academy's faults, Oblivia was quite possibly the best place it could be located. It was remote, isolated, free from the burdens of major civilizations.

He wished people could see it all. The beauty of it. The inevitability. The universe rose from the brink, only to fall.

And it was the people here who hurt Ellie. Their competition and a drive to be the best damaged a girl who hadn't even reached the legal voting age. Sure, none of them  _really_  meant it, after all. That wasn't the point of Pokemon battling; most of them were good people.

Smithley was tired of it. He cocked his head from left to right, taking a quick glance at the battlefield in which Ellie had fallen; it was now devoid of those raucous spectators from the match. Another glance fell upon a trainer complex nestled three-hundred yards away, the shared symbol of every Pokemon League fixed proudly upon it. A Pokeball stood emblazoned in the middle, accented by zig-zags of lines that vaguely resembled lightning bolts, a catalyst for what was to come.

 _One last stop,_  he thought. He had to solve this issue and solve it quickly.

For Ellie's sake.

It was for her sake the Oblivia native stepped into the doors of the building, knowing exactly who to seek out. If anyone could help him out with the problem, it'd be one of his few friends in the training division.

Funny. For all the things Pokemon battling could do, nobody could come up with a better name to describe it. The reminder stuck as Smithley strolled the halls, the framed pictures of past academy graduates reaching the far corners of his vision. Winners of Pokemon Leagues, contests, racing, and what-have-you stared at him from the eons of history.

But no analysts. It was some sort of bizarre amalgamation of a public university, save for formal training being suspended if somebody couldn't even pass that stupid one-minute initiation.

The lucky man was ahead, Smithley seeing him input some calculations in the control room immediately within reach. It stood in the center of the building, the beeping of various computers masking the fifteen-year-old's approach. With relative ease, he snuck in unmolested.

"I know you're there."

"Arceus, Thomas. There's no way you heard me."

"Don't need to. Sensors tripped," mumbled the teen, refusing to look up from his screen. He tapped a nearby monitor, its red flashes indicative of an intruder warning.

"Freak," Smithley goaded, taking the opportunity to peek out of the top-to-bottom windows surrounding the room. "How's the project coming?"

"Not bad. If I do it right, we should be able to swap out the fields like in the big leagues, Y'know, in and out?"

"I got you," he replied, taking notice of the four battlefields within his peripherical. Earth, water, grass, and rock platforms all laid at perfect angles from each other, preserved in pristine condition for the next day's training.

"So, what is it you want?" Thomas asked. "You never come here without a good reason."

Smithley moistioned his lips in anticipation. "I can't drop in and visit a friend?"

"That's bullshit and you know it," fired back the technician, finally tearing himself away from the mess of monitors consuming his attention. "So, spill."

"Fine. I know there's initiation and all that, but-"

"Is it about that girl?"

"... Yeah."

"Can't let it get to you, Smithley," chuckled his friend, taking a moment to look him in the eye. "I heard about the incident. You know the rules. They ain't changing."

"What if they did?"

"You can't possibly be suggesting-"

"Come on, Thomas. She's an eleven-year-old. How long have we been letting them wipe out over and over?"

"It works, Josh. People get over it. Then they grow. They can transfer out. They could train in secret. There's nothing stopping them," he snorted. "It's just the way we do things around here. Plenty of eleven-year-old trainers out there. Ten, even."

"Look at me, Thomas. I know you have pull with the president. She might listen to you. Just ask if it's possible to widen the training divis-"

"I'd rather have Giratina reach up from under and drag me down," interrupted the technician, a spark of fury erupting from within. "You keep doing this every time. You have those insane ideas, then I have to take the fall for it. Academy policy works here, and it'll keep working fifty years from now!"

"You're Kasa's grandson, Thomas! You can't pretend it didn't get you anywhere here."

"And how many times do you think she'd even listen to any of us? Tell me if she's even taking meetings with a single academy student."

"That's not the point and you know it."

"It absolutely is. Damn it, why try? People come to this place to get what they want. If you don't like it, leave! Hell, if you're so desperate, take an empty trainer spot if it opens up. You want to change initiation so bad? Be a part of it! Be like Dan!"

Smithley balled his fists, regretting his role in the increasingly charged tension of the conversation.

"I won't."

"Then fight him yourself! No, wait. It's coming back to me now," Thomas sneered. "That's right, you don't even have a Pokemon. Do you realize how bloody useless that is? Fat lot of good it does being here, huh?"

"Shut up, Thomas. Don't let it get to you."

"No, you're going to. You're dead weight here, Smithley. Do you understand that? Pore over statistics all day if you want, but you're not getting anywhere with that. You need blood, heat, and a will to fight. Look at me, damn it."

The fifteen-year-old couldn't quite meet the eye of his elder, instead fixing a haughty gaze on some distant horizon. He wouldn't dare give Thomas the satisfaction.

No. He wouldn't.

"Houndour didn't want to battle. Wouldn't have made it a day if this is the way we're running things down here," Smithley challenged, mustering enough courage to look at him for an instant. "So I let him go. It happens."

"And where is he now?"

Smithley felt a wave of shame wash over him. "I don't know."

"Exactly. You're what's wrong with initiation. That's why I'm mad," Thomas sighed, finally getting his temper under control. "Listen... you're my friend. But you can't keep on going like this."

"Yeah."

"Good."

The air reverberated with the sparks of the exchange, slowing giving way to cooler heads. Smithley leaned against one of the windows, letting his back slide in penance for the Pokemon he had lost. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd be ready to talk about it again.

Almost as if on cue, Thomas came to join him, placing his body in the same position. "You talk to Trev yet?"

"No, not really."

"Pft. If the crying was anything to go by, I don't think he did a very good job."

"You saw Ellie crying?"

The technician grimaced. "Yeah. I was outside. Probably didn't see me, but what can you do?"

"Pretty much."

"You're a nice guy, Josh. You could do a lot of good. Just try."

"Thanks, Tom," the fifteen-year-old murmured, Houndour still fresh on his mind.

"You got it. Now get out of here," he snorted. "I've got work to do. If you want a flawless system ready before the Verdure Cup next month, then I need to get back to having no social life."

Smithley straightened himself out, giving a quick nod to his friend. "That, I can help you out with. See you at dinner?"

"You bet."

Oblivia's native surged towards the door with a nonplussed attitude, the clicking of Thomas' tongue causing him to stop.

"And... I'll ask Kasa for you. She'll probably say no, but I'll see what I can do."

For once, a grin spread across Smithley's face. "Thanks, man."

With an affirmative grunt that barely passed as human, he continued on his way out, the pictures of championship winners no longer boring holes in his soul. The warm light of the yard greeted him, away from the doom and gloom of the training complex. All around him, the buildings of the academy jutted out like pines in the midst of a rocky mountain, partially true thanks to the composition of Mitonga Island. If this is what the school stood for... if this is what the training program stood for... then plans would have to be made.

Thomas was right.

Smithley rubbed his chin, delving into deeper thought. He believed, without a doubt, the battlers here were wrong. They were wrong in what they did and what they fought for. Pokemon battling shouldn't ever have to rely on who was stronger or weaker, nor who won and lost. No, there were too many who had relinquished sight of what battling stood for. There were even those who couldn't mega evolve their partners, despite how hard they tried. And that was coming from an analyst who barely had a single match at fifteen years old.

It was time to change the game. For Ellie. For Thomas. For Trevor, no matter how much of an idiot he was.

Smithley noticed a nearby dais, propped at the top of the small meadow allowing entry into academy grounds. It bore the motto of the school with stenciled letters, proudly standing for all to see.

He was ashamed of it. But he was proud of it, too. It represented everything right and wrong about the school, and it mirrored exactly what he now realized Thomas was trying to tell him.

If nobody was going to do it, he'd take matters into his own hands. He'd do it himself.

Indeed, for the motto was simple and small. Emblazoned with only two words, it allowed Smithley to grace a small smile. It'd be what he would use.

 _"Be better,"_  it said.

**~ Chapter One End ~**


	3. Two: The Raikou of Renbow

_Every storm runs out of_ rain _, just like every dark night turns into day. They are meant to wash us clean. - L.W._

* * *

 

**~~0~0~~**

**Two**

**The Raikou of Renbow**

**~~0~0~~**

It started with the mother of all storms.

Lightning crackled and snapped across the night sky, throwing forth a wrath of vengeance upon Oblivia's islands. The bolts hissed with the vigor of hot irons, biting at the raindrops that dared to fall from the clouds above. A melancholy howling blasted across the mountains, reverberating all the way into the warm embrace of one particular room in one particular lodge.

"Day five," Trevor muttered, throwing down three cards emboldened with pictures of a Ledyba.

"There's no way you had a triple in two draws," Smithley challenged, pulling out a Furfrou and adding it to his deck. "And if we're counting, it's the night of day four."

"Whatever."

"I'm lost," Ellie sighed, holding seven cards with visible confusion.

"Okay, it's simple. You start with five cards and draw one on each turn. Three of a kind and you win a point. Four and you win two. Five is a full house, so five points are matched. Twenty total and you win. That's all there is to it.

Smithley was grateful to Thomas for launching into an explanation of how Type Dash worked. If he had to explain it one more time, he was going to lose it.

"It doesn't have to be the same Pokemon, right?"

"Nah. Typing's the real cooker here. In fact-"

The laminate floors shook with a clap of thunder, disturbing the fire crackling in the midst of the chimney corner. The four participants of the game twitched, startled by what had been the most intense noise from the storm thus far. Fortunately, as quickly as it had come, the din outside settled into an ambient backdrop, the humming noise allowing Smithley and his friends to return to what was gripping their attention.

"Wait a minute," Trevor hissed, "You said it had to be the same Pokemon. You totally rigged the last game!"

"Yeah, Tom. What do you have to say for yourself?" Smithley jabbed, raising an eyebrow.

The technician shook his head vigorously. "That was totally different. We were playing sudden death."

"Pft. If Arceus was here, he'd obliterate you for that lie," fired back Ellie, playing along with the duel of words.

"I think our creator is a little busy doing creator-y things or whatnot."

Smithley smiled, proud of how far the girl had come in a week. Along with building a little more confidence after the disaster match, she had even decided to declare berry farming as her area of focus within the academy. It was better than nothing, the properties of those fruits going a long way towards efforts in making Pokemon medicine more sustainable. Honestly, anything was better than the Energy Roots found in Lavaridge Town.

The fifteen-year-old shuddered involuntarily. The last time a Pokemon here was fed an Energy Root, it ended up being a Staraptor who blew half the roof of the aviary off.

"Your go, Josh," Thomas barked, the teen feeling a sharp rap on the top of his head.

He drew his newest card off the top of the deck, feeling immense satisfaction at the beating he was about to unleash. Grouping the card with four others, Smithley threw down the set in triumph.

"Five. Brings me to fifteen, so I'd like you all to read it and weep.

A chorus of  _damn its_  echoed around the group.

_BOOOOOMMMM!_

A horrific thunderclap splintered across the pitch black canvas outside, flickers of yellow painting across its edges. Such was the power of the noise that the windows shook and groaned, the edges fracturing along with the inner strength of the four people camped inside. This was the worst yet, so much that it seemed less of a force of nature and more of the  _caused by something_  variety.

"Hey, turn the T.V. on," Thomas ordered, a rare tinge of fear making its way across his face. "This ain't normal, guys."

Smithley agreed, which didn't happen often. He would've dismissed it as a particularly strong storm cell, but the fact his room was being attacked by some freak force of nature was starting to convince him otherwise. And that was without taking into account how the others were reacting.

Despite the raging murmurings of the storm, the T.V. remained remarkably clear as it was switched on, Ellie's fingers tapping the remote all the way to the local news channel. The familiar face of Cam Willoughby greeted all of them, his face remarkably grave as an all-too-familiar voice filled the room.

"-And that's the forecast for Mitonga this week. In other news, authorities are now declaring a state of emergency for Renbow Island. A spokesperson for Puelman Electrics has confirmed the radio tower has suffered considerable damage, with engineers being unable to proceed with repairs for the duration of three days."

"Ugh," Ellie muttered. "There goes my unlimited plan."

Smithley felt her pain.

"-In addition, representatives from the Ranger Union have confirmed that what appears to be Raikou itself is rampaging through the area. Due to its presence, Threat Level Three has been issued for the entirety of the island stretching up east to the Big Booker Bridge, supplementing the prior state of emergency. Renbow residents are encouraged to remain indoors and on alert. Travel to and from the other islands have been suspended for the duration of the emergency."

Trevor whistled. "Damn. Not every day you see Raikou come charging through here."

"Yeah..." Smithley mused. "It always camps out in Johto, right? I wonder what it's doing here in Oblivia."

"Sightseeing!" Ellie suggested, trying to break up the doom and gloom. "I bet legends like to vacay sometimes. Chill a bit, y'know?"

Thomas sighed, ignoring Willoughby's droning commentary and drew another card from the deck, throwing it down with three others. "Two things. "One, what do they even need a vacation from? Sleeping and running all day? And second, I'm at sixteen now. Suck on that!"

"Owch. That hurt."

Trevor picked up another card, adding it to his arsenal. "Guys, I know the thunder god is running around zapping whatever it wants, so this'll sound silly, but... how come the T.V.'s working?"

"I told you about this last month, Trevor," Thomas scolded. "Seriously, pay attention. We've got a small tower here, but the heavy data stuff gets outsourced to Renbow's tower."

"Remind me to hire you as my tech consultant," Smithley murmured. "Arenas, monitors, data towers, and now a Trevor killer. You've got it all."

Internally, the fifteen-year-old thought it wasn't that bad of an idea. If things were going to pan out correctly, he'd probably need the help of his data-savvy friend.

"Not on Raikou," Ellie shivered, switching the television off with a _click_  and silencing the voice of Oblivia's premier anchor."Do you guys ever wonder what it'd be like to meet a legendary?"

"Ellie, you can't. Legendaries are gods. Trying to fight them head-on is not only moronic, but actually suicidal. Josh can tell you; he's read the books," Trevor said, throwing a quick nod.

"Don't even try tempting me, T. Sure, all of them are descended from Arceus, but I go any further than that and we'll be here all night. Though... since Raikou is bent on terrorizing us, I'll say this- the thing's got a mean streak a mile wide, which I assume stems from the Burnt Tower incident. You guys know the Ho-Oh story, right?"

A series of  _yessirs_  echoed around the room.

"Great. So Ho-Oh comes down and resurrects Raikou along with its siblings, Entei and Suicune. That's as far as the legend goes, though what happens after is a mystery. Any trainer who's ever attempted  _finding_  them in the first place has failed miserably, let alone attempted to challenge them in battle. I do remember this one article about a guy who tried going toe-to-toe with Entei, but he went insane. Nobody knows what happened to him."

"Whoa," Ellie whispered.

"And thus we have a killer beast which could hop over to us here on Mitonga any time it wants," Trevor shivered, tossing his deck. "And seeing as we've decided not to finish this game, let's talk about our deepest secrets."

"Yeah, Smithley, tell us all about your wonderful plan to change our woeful and sinful ways," Thomas teased. "My victory would be insignificant compared to this."

"Definitely!" exclaimed Ellie, a glimmer of hope surrounding her body. "Tell us!"

The fifteen-year-old rolled his eyes. "Why do you wanna know?"

"Consider it a personal investment."

"Fine, Trev. I was  _thinking_  about entering the Verdure Cup. I know, I know, it's a long shot, but changing things around here can't come without some experience. I want to see what we're up against."

Three pairs of mouths widened.

"You don't have a Pokemon," one spoke.

"I'll get one."

"Hang on a minute," spoke another, "even if you somehow got one, you do realize Dan will spank your ass for breakfast? Then chew it up and have it again for dinner? He's easily the best trainer in the academy, so there's no way you're getting past the preliminaries."

"The thought had occurred to me, yes."

"That's suicide."

"Then suicide it shall be."

"Let me clarify this," Thomas ordered, raising a palm. "You want to somehow fight up to a total of twelve of the finest trainers here in the academy before you start doing what it is you want to do?"

"Exactly."

"And what is it you want to do?" butted in Trevor, Smithley feeling his eyes scrutinize every inch of his character.

"You know what? Initiation's gotta stop. Do away with that bullshit. Anyone should be able to do what they want here, even if that means-"

_BOOOOOOMMMMM!_

Thunder continued to wrack the entirety of Oblivia's islands, giving Ellie an opportunity to speak.

"But what if there's no room? You know they wouldn't let me in..."

"Then we make room," Smithley continued, a fire igniting in his eyes. "We make beautiful complexes. Cathedrals! We don't single people out because they're apparently not good enough to train Pokemon. No! The bond between people and Pokemon has to mean something. Did you see the way Cranidos looked at you during that match? That's what it's really all about. Sure, you win, win, win. But for what?"

"She's doing pretty good now," Ellie muttered, fingering the Pokeball nestled in her side pocket. "Good point, though."

"Damn, man. You should run for president or something," whistled Trevor.

"Pft. If Oblivia had a champion... nah, I dunno. Wouldn't be any good at it," Smithley shrugged, looking away. "Champion positions seem fake, anyway. You achieve victory... but after that? What could you possibly do as one?"

_BOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!_

"Steven Stone does pretty good charity work in Hoenn," Thomas suggested, once the thunderclap had subsided. "His league has a pretty good grip on the gyms, too."

"Everyone knows that, Tom."

"I'd like to see some here in Oblivia if you ask me," Trevor interjected. He rose from the floor and stretched his body with a  _creak_ , hobbling all the way over to the window pane to watch the lightning. The teen glanced out of the glass, eyes narrowing in confusion. "I'm not saying they could get me better access to Rare Candies, but... hey, is that Dan?"

Smithley furrowed his brow, moving over to where Trevor was looking at. "Gyms aren't druggie centers, T. And... yeah, it is. The hell is he doing out there?"

In the middle of the commons, Dan Whitehouse appeared to be shouting orders at an orange-tailed lizard. Judging by the way he was shaking his fists, the Pokemon had somehow displeased him greatly, a fact that disappointed Smithley to no end.

"Since when did he get a Charmander?" he muttered, recognizing the telltale shape.

Trevor blinked. "Yesterday."

Three pairs of eyes came to rest on him, Ellie brushing her skirt off and giving him a smack across the back of the head.

"And on another episode of  _Trevor Fucks Up_ ," Smithley drawled, "he neglects to mention this."

"Wasn't his Drilbur enough?" Thomas asked, shoving the others aside to make room. "I'm pretty sure he wanted to go solo with the little guy."

"Nah," Trevor said. "Talked to him last night. Says he wanted to surprise people during the cup or something like that."

Smithley frowned, looking closer at the duo training in the rain. It was obvious both of them were drenched from head to toe, but he was particularly worried about the Charmander. It was a miracle the fire on the tail hadn't gone out, but it was unbelievably dim in the doom and gloom. It cast far less of an illuminating glow than he would have liked. At least the branches of the tree they were under was sheltering the lizard a bit.

"It's not much of a surprise if he's pushing the poor thing in the rain, though," Trevor continued, "You know how he was when getting Drilbur into shape."

"You don't need to remind me," Smithley snorted, turning away from the framed panels. "Hell of a controversy, that one."

"What happened?" Ellie asked.

Thomas stroked his imaginary beard, best trying to figure out how to explain this. "Two years back, there were... issues. Leadership wasn't sure if he was feeding the thing Pokeblocks or Rare Candies or a mixture of both. They tried investigating, but nothing panned out. With his training philosophy... I wouldn't be surprised."

_BOOOOOOOOMMMM!_

The Charmander in the commons jumped at the latest crack of thunder, only to be greeted by more irate fist-waving from its trainer.

"Why...?" muttered Ellie, wringing her hands. "This is basically abuse."

"Nothing we can do about it, kiddo," Thomas sighed.

Smithley fingered the fabric of his jacket, momentarily ashamed with the reputation of his academy. Thomas was right as he usually was, plus nobody else would be bothered to venture out with the kind of weather ravaging in the skies above. Dan was many things, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing the vast majority of the time, including making Pokemon as competitive as they could be.

The fifteen-year-old felt the youngest member of the group poke at his shoulder, turning to look at her scrunched features.

"Yeah?"

"If you got to be in charge, you could stop that," Ellie suggested. "Make it less barbaric."

Smithley chuckled. "Ells, I don't think Kasa will be stepping aside anytime soon. She ripped into Tom pretty bad when he brought it up."

Thomas grimaced. "Thanks for reminding me."

"Be a champion, then!" cried the girl.

"No champion here. Like hell there'd ever be authority over this if I was one, though." sighed the fifteen-year-old.

"How do you know?" Trevor asked.

For the twentieth time that night, all eyes laid to rest on him. He stepped back, shrugging his shoulders.

"How do you know?"

"What do you mean, Trev?" Champions stem from battle. It's not like they could influence public pol-" Smithley began.

"How do you know?" Trevor asked again.

"I... don't, but-"

"Then find out. C'mon, Josh. You haven't stepped foot out of Oblivia. Sure, you read, but what do you really experience outside of this place? Kalos is pretty hands-on, if I'm saying something. The government even covered half of my tuition to go here."

"Interesting."

"I mean it. Think on it a little," Trevor pleaded.

Smithley pursed his lips, pondering what was said. It  _was_  true he hadn't left the region yet, but it seemed like some irrelevant task to his life goals. Well... not as if he had much in the way of life goals if he was being honest. It was more of a "make things better here" type of deal, but he hadn't given anything beyond that much thought, save for the occasional sifting through the Internet or historical texts.

Analytics... data... logic. They seemed like foregone conclusions at first, but the more Smithley looked within himself, he realized there was a fire to improve things. To redefine what it meant to live and work with Pokemon.

The almost inhumane training going outside was one reason.

"Alright, Trev. If it means that much to you, I'll think about it," Smithley assured, the duo sharing a handshake in agreement.

_BOOOOOOOMMMMM!_

Ellie jumped. "This is great and all, but how much longer is this gonna keep up?"

"Josh?" Thomas asked, moving over to the fire. "Surely you might know."

"This is new territory for me. I don't have any of the answers, but... if Raikou is here of all places, it's pissed. Whether it be at something or someone, I don't know. The only thing we can do is hunker down and hope for the best, really. Get to class tomorrow if you can, but if you can't, I'm sure nobody's going to blame you."

Trevor cackled, drumming away at the windowsill. "Tell that to Professor Kaufman. If I don't clear that test, you can kiss goodbye to my chances of retaining a breeding concentration."

"I don't think there's much competition in making Pokemon lay eggs," Smithley jabbed. "Breeding isn't exactly the most popular profession for a few reasons, that one included."

"Hey! There's something just right about creating life-"

A chorus of groans rang around the room.

"Oh, good Arceus."

"Just stop, please."

"My innocent ears!"

_BOOOOOOOOMMMM!_

The biggest lightning bolt Smithley had ever seen emerged from the churning storm clouds beyond, illuminating the entirety of Renbow Island on the horizon beyond.

Silence.

Then more silence.

Then awe.

Trevor gulped. "Okay, maybe making new life is great, but I ain't making new life like _that._ Whoever's even thinking of getting near that Raikou is such a dead, dead,  _DEAD_  man. Caterpie-on-a-stick, that was crazy."

 _What it would be like to wield the power of a god_ , Smithley thought. The power to make lightning appear at will... the power to decimate any living being to ashes... the power to summon the very forces of nature at your disposal.

Power.

Power was needed.

Yes, Smithley knew now. As horrible as it could be, it could be used for good things. For kind things.

"A dollar for your thoughts?" Thomas asked, stirring the fire with a hot poker. "You've been lost to us for a good minute."

"Huh?"

"Your head's as far up as those clouds, genius."

Smithley's friends looked at him, the fifteen-year-old feeling their questions weighing on his shoulders.

"Sorry, guys. Just... thinking."

"Oh, Ellie! Before I forget, if you hear anything on campus, remember that his title is  _Thinker._ Everyone uses it," Trevor explained, tapping his forehead. "'Cause... y'know, he thinks too much."

Smithley rolled his eyes. "And which one of us explains things in succinct details better? Like, I don't know, how initiation works?"

"That was one time, bro."

"I think I'll stick to  _Josh,_ thank you very much," grinned the girl, the warmth of her smile making Smithley's heart melt. "He's forty percent of a better friend than you, Trev."

"Cold. Real cold."

_BOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!_

Almost on as if on cue, a spurt of flames glowed from the window with the latest thunderclap, causing the group to rush over and huddle. Murmurs of excitement spread amongst them, Smithley in particular.

"Wow! That little guy actually managed to spit some fire," Thomas blurted. "Dude, if you're really gonna try for the Verdure Cup, you're toast."

As the Charmander did a little spin around the tree, Dan crossing his arms in approval, Smithley couldn't help but agree. It wasn't going to be pretty, but he'd do what he could. But... there was no way in hell Charmanders should be able to do that. Either it was too eager to please Dan or there were drugs involved, a mixture of both, or perhaps some sort of inner vitriol.

 _Thinker_ , indeed.

Trevor got bored first, leaning away from the framed panels and over to the cards lying splayed on the ground, trampled with the afterthought of bare feet. He collected them one by one, a rare thought working its way across his facial features.

"As well as that miracle Charmander is doing... anyone remember that trip we were supposed to make in a few days? I dunno guys. If this doesn't let up, we're not getting to explore Daybreak Ruins anytime soon."

"It'll pass," Thomas assured.

"Will it?" Ellie mused, balancing the soles of her feet in rhythm to the rocking outside. "If we're all still here... another game, anyone?"

"I really wanted to see Daybreak-"

"You'll see it, Trev," Smithley said, backing up Thomas up. "Getting there's the hardest part, anyway. Right? We both wanted to go. It'll happen."

"Okay. But I'm going to kick your ass for real. And you. And you. I'm winning this time."

The group began to gather in the center of the room, all eager to make Trevor eat his words as per usual.

_BOOOOOOOMMMMM!_

The latest round of Raikou's wrath hit the clouds, reminding Smithley of the scene unfolding on the ground below. Dan wouldn't keep pushing Charmander past this point, would he? It was getting too late in the evening to consider going further, not to mention curfew.

The impossible had proved to be possible in the past, however.

Before joining the others, Smithley peered down from the window one last time. In the breadth of a second, his fears had been confirmed as Dan and Charmander continued to train in the howling storm, tiny little spurts of embers and fists pounding against the rain, the tree, and anything in between.

Despite the horribleness of it... despite the inhumane training, not to say anything of ethics, Smithley couldn't help but allow himself to be a little impressed.

Not with Dan. No, with the Charmander. The Lizard Pokemon should've been long dead, but it managed to hang on despite the utter pounding it was receiving. It seemed to be a miracle out of the books of old, especially with a Pokemon not native to Oblivia. If Smithley had to guess the origin, it was most likely Kanto with how many of their starters were exported out to other regions.

Oddly satisfied with the training occurring below, Smithley allowed himself to watch the next spurt of lightning, still snapping and crackling in the midst of the storm. Despite his fears, the chaos out there calmed him. It reminded him what he was there for. It made him... _feel_  good.

His friends would help him. His friends would support him. His friends would cherish him.

Maybe being a champion of some kind wouldn't be so terrible after all.

"Josh!"

"Yeah?"

"You're joining us, right?" Ellie inquired. "C'mon, you gotta help us keep Trev down."

"I'm coming!"

As he planted himself on the floor with his friends, Smithley wondered how far they would be willing to push him. Maybe it wouldn't end with the Verdure Cup. Maybe it'd go even further than that. Hop a few islands. Visit another region like he promised Trevor he would consider. Stop the rampant stigma against training and battling. Those thoughts made him feel good.

Yes.

For it feels good to be good for something while the God of Thunder ran rampant, consuming all of Renbow and Oblivia's islands with its wrath.

 

**~ Chapter End ~**

 


	4. Three: Dawn at Daybreak

_The finest steel has to go through the hottest fire. It must be tempered, forged, and made anew. - C.S._

* * *

**~~0~0~~**

**Three**

**Dawn at Daybreak**

**~~0~0~~**

"Here on this side of the wall, we have several depictions of Oblivia's early days. Some say the islands rose from the sea, eventually blooming with the life we know today. Others say, and more accurately backed by those ancient delineations, the land was raised by the legendary titans Groudon and Kyogre in their eons-old clash. Now, most indicators go on to show that once every ten-thousand years..."

Professor Hoary's voice droned on and on as Smithley traced the cobweb-infused walls of Daybreak Ruins, marveling at the tribute to the region's ancient past. Even though the sunburnt stones were thousands of years old, they were as firm as the day they were made in the throes of fire.

"Fascinating," he muttered, eyeing the numerous Baltoy and Bronzor spinning aimlessly in the distance. They were kept at bay by the six Starapator guarding the group, even though the Pokemon of the ruins were either too timid or docile to consider approaching the humans who now graced their dwelling place.

"Josh," Trevor whispered.

"What?"

"I came here under the assumption we were gonna see some cool stuff."

"This is the cool stuff, Trev. Where else are we going to pay tribute to our past?!" Smithley exclaimed, gesturing to a multicolored mural decked in hues of red, brown, and white. "Look around you. It's positively beautiful."

"It's positively dull," muttered his friend.

"Bro. Not-"

"Mr. Smithley, Mr. Johnson, would you care to indulge the rest of us on both of your observations?" Professor Hoary drawled, pausing his lecture on primal paintings. Granite Hills' resident historian raised an eyebrow, expecting an answer.

"Actually, sir, I would," Smithley uttered, mentally reminding himself that Trevor now owed him yet another favor. "I took an interest to the frames over here, which seems to portray Entei on a pedestal. Would you mind explaining?"

The professor ran a hand through his thick, white hair, seemingly pleased at least one of his students was half-paying attention. "Very well, if you insist. It's long been said that Entei roams Johto, though is worshipped in various temples around the world. The mural you see here and in other sections within the ruins pay tribute to the legendary beast. The real question archaeologists continue to ask is  _why_  here, especially in such a foreign place."

The half-dozen other academy students around Hoary rolled their eyes, Smithley feeling their disdain over his role in allowing the professor to continue on another one of his mind-numbing commentaries over the past.

Personally, the fifteen-year-old found it fascinating. Every new beginning came from another beginning's end, after all. The past gave way to the present, and the present would soon give way to the future, or something like that. The writings of some random guy named Bill in the Kanto region had touched him profoundly, though he was pretty sure the guy had borrowed it from some obscure philosopher somewhere.

"And there's a monument for Entei, right professor?"

"Correct, Mr. Smithley. Which, my young pupils, brings us to one of the major reasons we're here. Along with exploring the antechambers, we've been kindly granted permission to visit the peak of the ruins. Let's carry on that way now, hm?"

The muttering of students increased in volume as the professor gestured to a hallway further within the ruins, the dim glow of torches marking the way. Hoary made it his task to lead on, whistling for the Staraptor guards to keep up with the group.

Smithley prepared himself for Trevor's inevitable nudging, the latter almost physically filling up with glee.

"Finally. This is what I came for," his friend said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. "Real action. That's what I was promised, huh?"

The fifteen-year-old sighed, tolerating his friend's crazed fascination with excitement thanks to what he did for him two years ago. If it hadn't been for him, he would've been dumped out of the academy a long time ago.

"Yeah, Trev. I'm sure you'll be seeing plenty of action."

"Cool beans."

Smithley settled into a monotone pace, keeping up with his fellow academy students yet remaining several steps away. He and Trevor remained in comfortable silence, each basking in the oddly reassuring atmosphere of the ruins. Yes, despite the spookiness factor, this remnant of Oblivia's past had some sort of soothing allure, almost as if nothing could get in it once sealed.

The torches flickered, their flames being slightly perturbed by the herd of Staraptors flying above, their large wings but the size of a small dinner plate against the vast expanse of the ceiling. In spite of everything that had happened since the storm a few days ago, things remained calm. So calm, in fact, that-

"Hey, Smithers!"

A lone boy slowed down, breaking off from the congregation ahead and matching his speed with that of Smithley. The overly-friendly motion caused the latter to grimace, shoving his hands firmly in his pockets. Trevor rolled his eyes, all too aware of how he felt when it came to conversations like these.

"Yeah, Mike?" Smithley muttered.

"Remember when Kasa called off the next trip? 'Cause of the crazy Renbow storm...  _thing_  a few days back?"

"Crazy stuff happens all the time, Mike."

"Right... well, she lifted the emergency yesterday. We're good to go to the Rainbow Festival if you want."

Smithley shrugged, darting his sight back and forth from the ever-narrowing walls towards the end of the tunnel. "I won't be attending. I've got things to do."

"You have family over there, don't ya? Might be a good time to say hi." Mike suggested, flexing his shoulders.

Smithley stopped for a moment, looking at the greenhorn with narrowed eyes. "My family's on Sophian. It's not like it matters much, anyway. I don't talk to them."

"The island with Mount Sorbet?"

"That's the one," Smithley stated, continuing with his walk. It would not do to fall behind.

"Great, well..."

Smithley sighed. "Mike, you and I both know you didn't come to talk to me because you wanted to hear my life story. Spill it."

"Wow," sighed the latter, gritting his teeth. "You really are that good. Okay. Rumor's been floating around that you wanna jump in the Verdure Cup."

"Says who?"

"Says half the student body. Listen, don't do it. You're asking to be shish-kebabed alive."

"Maybe I want to be shish-kebabed, Mike."

Trevor snorted. "Yeah, he does."

Mike rubbed his chin, albeit with increasing nervousness. "Then I'll do anything it takes to talk you out of it. Dan wants you in the first round, and he'll tip off the organizers to make sure it happens."

Smithley stopped again. "He's still not pissed from last year, is he?"

"Yeah, he kind of is. You don't even have a Pokemon yet, do you?"

"Last year? Josh, please. That was all anybody talked about for three months, but you're more than welcome to try your side of the story," Trevor ordered, waving a hand.

Smithley pursed his lips, wondering how to frame it correctly. "It's still a little hazy to me, but we threw a few words. Then I think a punch somewhere, then he started bleeding. Then I started bleeding. It was a mess. I can't even remember what the argument was about, honestly."

Mike whistled. "Well, he remembers. I mean, isn't he half the reason you couldn't get in the program you wanted?"

"Now that I didn't hear about," Trevor exclaimed, whirling around on his feet. "C'mon, Josh. You gotta tell me those things."

"It wasn't really  _that_ important."

"It has to be. You have two weeks to go, man. As an honorary friend, I'll forgive your transgression, but we need to get you a Pokemon."

Smithley continued his walk, subconsciously nodding as Trevor continued to state the blatantly obvious. Doing it, however, was a different story. The fifteen-year-old still couldn't grasp why he hadn't gotten around to the most important part of the plan yet, though he suspected being way more of a chicken than normal played a factor. He didn't want a repeat of Houndour again.

Especially not after last time.

"And while you two are planning," Mike continued, "I'll remind you that you're still going to lose. It's simply not possible. Even if you got a Pokemon in time, you still wouldn't have it trained to the level necessary to compete."

"Who knows, Mike? Maybe I've got some sort of grand plan in the works. Maybe this petty cup means nothing in the long run."

"What, become a dictator or something?" snorted Mike. "It's really not your style, Smithers."

"You're right, it's not. And maybe that's the way it goes."

Smithley ended the conversation with a note of silence, allowing the younger student to ponder his words. Trevor, on the other hand, didn't have to be persuaded otherwise in light of many  _fruitful_ conversations.

Besides, the journey to the ruins' summit was nearly complete. The light at the end of the tunnel grew larger and larger as it sat atop a grand spiral of stones, Smithley feeling chills travel down his spine. It was almost as if something was waiting in anticipation, though any strong presence had been voided of the ruins for many years. In a few short seconds, he and the bored students from Granite Hills Academy walked through, the light expanding until it consumed them whole.

The sight was almost something that took Smithley's breath away, no thanks to the Staraptor flapping directly overhead.

Nestled at the top of the cliff was a gigantic monument, emblazoned with writing so old he had no idea what language it could possibly be. The etches of Unown laid in hieroglyphs, almost taunting to be deduced. A large central plaza laid in front of the monument in an intricate pattern, its waylaid stone obviously borrowed from the cliffsides surrounding it. In all honesty, the ruins were so well sealed the only way out was either up or jumping off the empty space directly behind the monument, the beautiful dawn sun glimmering on it with all its glory.

"Now, now. Let's not dwell too much with those doe eyes," Hoary chuckled, a rare moment of amusement leaking through his demeanor. "As I'm sure all of you can see, we have this slab of stone on the dais ahead. Colloquially referred to as the Mitonga Monument, it shares the same design as two others found on both Renbow and Sophian Islands.

Smithley took Hoary's lecture in stride, being the only one out of the group to inch ever so closer to the dais. He crept up and forwards, getting close enough to notice every intricate detail, but far enough away to leave a respectful distance. It would not do to disturb this ancient relic.

"Furthermore, a number of studies conducted by the United Regions' archeologists at the location of all three monuments suggest Oblivia was formed at roughly the same time as Johto," Hoary continued. "It correlates with the age of the shrines dedicated to the legendary trio there."

"Archeology? That's the only thing the United Regions is good for," snickered one student, causing laughter to creep from the cluster of navy-red jackets.

 _So much for being shocked into silence,_ Smithley thought.  _Idiots._

"Contrary to popular belief Mr. Kirkman, the United Regions is, in fact, good for many things. Since you were so kind to bring it up, let's have a political  _lesson_  here," Hoary enunciated. "I did say this trip was going to be educational, if any of you were paying attention."

A chorus of  _groaaannnss_  hissed through the students of Granite Hills Academy, Smithley being the exception. At least Trevor was subtly flipping off Kyle Kirkman with tremendous success, the tragic circumstances of the latter's name being an afterthought at the moment.

"I love your enthusiasm, students. Since Mr. Kirkman was nice enough to mention it, why don't you tell us about the functions of the United Regions, my boy?" questioned Hoary, pointing to the third-year birdkeeper.

"Um... uh... it's in charge of everyone?"

"Good guess, but not quite," chuckled the professor. "I had thought Miss April would have taught you this by now, but I suppose I'll have to rectify the situation as usual."

"No, sir. You really don't need to-" Kirkman began.

"Nonsense. Oblivia, along with many others, are member states of the United Regions. You name it, this organization probably does it. A global peacekeeping force, surveillance, intelligence, federal funding... it's essentially a large government, but it does leave its member states alone to run their own internal affairs. For example, a tax bill in the Orange Archipelago won't apply to the Unova region. Nor would schooling in Kalos be the same as here in Oblivia. In fact, students-"

"Actually, professor," Smithley interrupted, "didn't you want us to see what happens at dawn? You did mention it in the sign-up briefing."

As fascinating as Hoary's lecture was, Smithley refused to let him get that far. One, he owed Kirkman a favor from a while back. And two, he really did want to see what happened at dawn.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Mr. Smithley. Before we move on to the monument, here's one last question for you all. Anyone want to tell me who's in charge of the United Regions?"

"A president?" Trevor asked, his tone desperately indicating he wanted to get to the good stuff.

"Mr. Johnson, I hope your test scores are better than your attendance rate."

Mike stepped forward. "The champion. Most powerful in the world, right?"

Now  _that_  got Smithley's attention.

"And Mr. Hokado gets it correct. What a nice surprise," teased the professor. "But yes, a champion. Appointed once every ten years, which can be consecutive, mind you, this individual is head of state of the United Regions. The identity of our current one, however, is unknown."

"What do you mean, unknown?" Kirkman cried. "If I'm sitting through this at the crack of dawn, I want to know who the damn champion is!"

"My, my. Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning. However, in light of your handling of the Staraptor incident, Mr. Kirkman, I'll let it slide."

"Sorry, sir."

"Anyway, Mr. Smithley is correct. We'll shelve the champion discussion for now, but another major reason why I gathered you all here today is to observe what happens as the sun hits the crux of Daybreak Ruins just right. Fortunately, we've gotten here soon enough to witness this event; by my watch, we have a few minutes before the phenomenon occurs."

The fabled glimmering of the ruins seemed less appealing than it was two minutes ago as Smithley pondered this new information. He backed away from the monument, locking eyes with Trevor in the distance; the both of them seemed to be thinking the same thing. If there really was someone in charge of a world government, then it would present a very unique opportunity.

 _Pft. Like I'd ever have the courage or the ambition to try_ , Smithley thought.

Nevertheless, he was content to let Trevor approach him as the rest of the students mingled, waiting for the professor to give the heads-up for the event to occur. For now, the wizened old man seemed content to allow the sun to continue climbing in the morning sky.

"So... pretty interesting stuff just now, huh?" Trevor asked, tapping his feet impatiently. "Sure is  _really_ interesting."

"Trevor, if you want to take over the world, please be my guest.

"C'mon, Josh. This is the perfect opportunity to jump ship off this place. Maybe the random-ass Pokemon you pick doesn't just have to be for this stupid cup."

"Dude," Smithley began, peering at some overturned colonnades, "I'm fifteen and don't have the balls. It's can't be a thing. Oblivia's good enough for me."

"You promised you were going to think about it, remember?"

"Yeah. Sinnoh or something would be great; I'd like to see the ruins over there. But chasing some vague position where everyone's better than me and nobody has any idea how it works? Nah, it's a hard pass."

Before Trevor could answer, Professor Hoary's voice barked a clear order of excitement to everyone assembled.

"It's starting! If you all can deduce this correctly, I'll give extra credit."

What Smithley saw next was glorious.

As the heat increased from the sun's rise, waves of light began pouring directly onto the Mitonga Monument. One by one, each ray hit the hieroglyphs carved within, and it was only now that Smithley noticed they were arranged in a deliberate pattern.

A collective gasp of  _whoas_  came from everyone's lips, the professor included.

Slowly, but surely, blueish-white lines began erupting from the slab of stone. They began tracing across the hieroglyphs, crossing one another faster and faster and faster until they all combined as one, glowing in the bask of the morning sun.

It was no wonder the heat continued to increase.

"And that, students, is why I brought you here," Hoary muttered.

Smithley wholeheartedly agreed, for there was a sign of some sorts blazing on the monument, two right triangles connected by several lines. So similar was the sign to a Pokemon's face that Smithley couldn't help but wonder...

"Professor... that sign's for Entei, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Smithley. Every morning, the same thing happens. The reasoning still confounds many, but this phenomenon never fails to occur every single day. It appears absolutely useless, though is a pretty sight to watch."

The fifteen-year-old shrugged off his academy jacket, tying it around his waist. "And to think we don't know why. Pokemon truly continue to be total mysteries."

"That they are. But now you understand why the research field is quite lucrative," Hoary chuckled. "I hope all of you realize that. Battling and breeding and training aren't quite everything, but continuing to unlock the mysteries of how this world functions is another story entirely."

"How long does this last, professor?" Trevor asked, doing the same to his jacket.

"Five minutes, more or less."

"I gotta say..." Mike muttered, being the third person to speak up. "this is great. How'd you score this trip, sir?"

The heat simmered in synch with Hoary's smile. "I know a few people, Mr. Hokado. These ruins aren't as off-limits as you'd be led to believe."

"Can I take my girlfriend here?"

"Mike, you're not going to do anything but passionately mooch her face off during sunrise," Trevor argued. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, professor, but it's true."

"Hey! I have some respect for the way of-"

Smithley tuned out the inevitable argument, making his way to the opposite end of the cliffside. He worked his way around several other students, content to let Trevor get in the way as he was wont to do, instead choosing to take a moment to enjoy the peace. This was a relief from the constant pounding of classes, from statistics to literature to world languages. Even the insufferable heat couldn't dampen his spirits at all, no matter how much it rained down from the sky.

Speaking of rain, there were virtually no traces of the thunderstorm that struck several days ago. Smithley found it baffling, the stark contrast of the ocean and land beyond the cliff versus what it was imagined to be. Raikou had all but disappeared, sightings reducing as quickly as Entei's sign on the monument; it was already fading to a light blue color.

Indeed, the mirrored color of water was a great relief, Smithley taking a sip from the canteen tucked in his academy-issued pack. The few other students not involved with the ongoing argument did the same, all now donning the classic jacket-on-the-waist look.

It was funny, really. There was a slight buzzing in the air, the classic water mirage now simmering across the plaza. Smithley didn't know it could get hot enough this early in the morning for such phenomena to occur, but apparently, surprises could still happen. He only wished it wasn't making him so thirsty.

People were supposed to be pale in the heat, right? Smithley thought so. He also thought the way Entei's sign completely faded away just now was pretty cool. People were probably impressed by what happened. That's why they stopped talking, right? That's why everyone stopped talking.

Come to think of it, the professor was pretty pale. Paler than Smithley had ever seen him, but he supposed the heat had something to do with it.

Yeah, it had to be the heat.

"Smithley, don't move," Hoary whispered. "Whatever you do... don't move."

"Uh... okay?" questioned the fifteen-year-old, puzzled as to why the professor was so tense.

Come to think of it, everyone else was also pretty tense. Even Trevor, who usually found a time such as this to make a witty remark. Mike was frozen as well, trying very carefully not to let his body twitch. Essentially, everybody was trying not to move. What was more mysterious, however, was why all the Staraptor were gone. Smithley could see their silhouettes rapidly fading away as they ascended to the clouds as quickly as possible.

"Professor, if I can ask..."

"SHHHH!"

"B-but!"

"SHHHH! For Arceus' sake, Mr. Smithley. Shut up and inch  _very_ carefully in my direction." Hoary whispered, a tinge of desperation present in his minor hand gestures. "Just... try not to make any sudden movements."

It was only now that Smithley noticed the temperature had increased even more, causing him to start feeling the telltale signs of sweat around his armpits.

"Alright, prof-"

"Don't. Say. A. Word."

That was all Smithley needed, putting one shoe in front of the other towards the professor, who was now sliding a Pokeball from his vest.

 _Okay,_ he thought.  _So it's a Pokemon behind me. Or something. Whatever it is, it can't be good._

"Gighhehhhh..."

The sound of a growl hit Smithley at the precipice of his ears, causing his hairs to stand on end. For the first time in a very long while, he felt fear. It trickled at the back of his neck, running all the way down to the small of his spine. It beaded at his forehead, beginning him to run. And, most of all, it caused him to do something incredibly stupid. So stupid, in fact, that he was sure it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Against his better judgment, Smithley turned his head sideways, wondering what exactly it was that struck fear in him so.

"No! Don't-" Hoary began.

"GRRRROOOGHHHHH!"

The shrieking of an incredulous bellowing gave way to a miniature shockwave, trembling all around Smithley's feet. It caused the earth to crackle and crumble, splintering into dizzying fractures around the plaza.

"GRRRAAAAAGHHHH!"

Smithley felt his heart seize, dropping to the very pit of his stomach until there was nothing left for it to drop into. The only thought crossing his mind at the moment was how so very dead he was in the literal sense. He felt completely powerless if he wasn't already, for there was no hope at all.

It was an appropriate reaction, for there was nothing in front of him but Entei itself.

"GRRRRIGGGGHEHHHH!"

The Volcano Pokemon shone with a power reserved only for gods such as itself, cloaking it from head to toe. A luxurious mane sprouted from its head, running all the way down to the back of its shaggy-brown fur.

_CRASH!_

Entei leaped from where it stood, smashing into a collection of stones approximately ten feet away from Smithley.

"GGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!"

The bellow of one of Johto's gods overrode the screams now coming from the academy students, all huddling around the monument in paralyzing fear. Hoary wasn't much help either, the professor frozen in place with his fingers still clutched around a Pokeball. He was either trapped in his own fear, trying to plan something, or a mix of both.

Who knew? There wasn't exactly protocol for interacting with a god.

_THUD!_

Smithley felt the heat continue to increase as Entei turned towards him, taking two steps forward with its collared paws. Its eyes shone a golden color, sizing the fifteen-year-old up as if he were a threat to the god's agenda.

"Uh... hi?" Smithley stuttered, his array of vocabulary lost to him in the heat of the moment.

"Gggggrrrrrrr..."

Entei took another step forward, its fur swaying in the windy escapade. It sniffed the air, seemingly nonplussed with the terrified humans inching as far away from it as possible. Though Hoary finally appeared to have shaken away the initial shock and now was waiting for something, perhaps the right moment in which to intervene.

Smithley hoped it would be sooner rather than later. The more pressing concern, however, is why the actual  _fuck_  Entei was here. Encounters with legendaries were nigh impossible, borderline something nobody would ever see in a lifetime... yet one was here.

Maybe that was why the top of his head was feeling moist.

_Drip._

The fifteen-year-old felt something wet hit his forehead. He ran a finger over it, realizing there was nothing but a droplet of water there.

Then another drop.

Then another.

Entei looked up to the sky, confusion visible on the god's face. It was now less interested in Smithley than in the sudden herald of a storm, now rushing in from miles away at speeds that would make Latios jealous.

The smell of rain encroached on the horizon. Drop by drop, water began to sprinkle from the clouds above. Thunder rumbled, a reminder of what had happened nearly a week ago.

"That can't be possible," Trevor muttered, still cowering cautiously from the monument. "This is just like..."

"Renbow's storm," Smithley finished.

_BOOOOOOOOOMMMM!_

A cacophony of lightning rained down from up on high, hitting the center of the monument's plaza. Quicker than a flash, Entei found itself being slammed into the cliffside by a blur of yellow.

The growling of beasts erupted into ear-splitting screeches, but one thing was on the mind of everyone present, all shouting it in unison.

"RAIKOU?!"

Smithley barely had time to dodge before the prowess of both gods completely obliterated where he stood, lightning and fire together consuming where they touched. Together, Raikou and Entei grappled in a furor of teeth and claws and snapping and hissing before slamming into another portion of the cliffside with a mighty  _crash_ , causing rocks to tremble from the craggy peaks above.

"Tyrantrum, stand by for battle!" Hoary barked, finally springing into action. He threw out his Pokeball and released the Despot Pokemon. "Execute the evacuation plan. Shield my students!"

"TRANTUM!" bellowed the prehistoric dinosaur, landing onto the plaza with the weight of six hundred pounds.

Smithley ducked and turned and dived and whipped. His mind was completely consumed by the  _flight_  response of his body, Tyrantrum charging forward to protect him from the clash of the legendary beasts.

It was most unfortunate the Strong Jaw Pokemon was tossed over the side of the cliff in a fraction of a second, both Entei and Raikou's sparring being so strong it sent the poor thing flying to its death.

"NO! Tyrantrum!" Hoary cried, surging forwards. "New plan, students. Run, and whatever you do, don't stop. Get back to civilization immediately. DON'T STOP!"

_CRASH!_

Raikou and Entei slammed into a colonnade, causing the structure to crumble down onto the monument mere seconds after Trevor yanked himself out of the way, running as fast as he possibly could towards Smithley.

Like a Zubat out of hell, all of the students scattered in every direction, headed for the only way they could get out- the opening to the ruins below.

"Professor!" Smithley cried, grabbing Trevor and shoving him towards the ruins. "Come on, we don't have time!"

"Nonsense! You all get to safety. You all-"

Hoary's orders were muted by a terrible screech, red and yellow jumping directly over him and towards Smithley's head. Raikou's fangs were sunk squarely in Entei's neck, golden blood spilling onto the cobblestones below.

Then there was pain.

Pain.

Pain.

_PAINNNN._

Smithley's eyesight blurred as something wet sloshed over him, his skin screaming in some of the most excruciating pain he had ever had the pleasure to suffer. It was slick and shiny, tipped with specks of a golden hue.

"JOSH!" Trevor screamed, the clash of the legendary gods jumping from cliffside to cliffside over the monument, whipping the entire plaza into a dust storm frenzy, the smell of rain making it musty.

"TREVOR!" Smithley screamed back, rubbing his hands all over his body to find the wound. "HELP ME!"

"I GOT YA, BUD!" called the Kalos native, hurrying back as fast as his legs could let him.

Smithley looked behind him to Hoary, the professor trying to make his way across the field of lightning and fire erupting across the ruins. It was about now the fifteen-year-old realized the blood wasn't coming from him, but rather...

Entei.

It was Entei's blood, and Smithley was sure of it. The god had settled for a moment, backing against its monument in defense against Raikou's rage. It was only fortunate nobody save for the three people left in the plaza were there to witness history.

Time slowed to a standstill for the fifteen-year-old, taking in everything that was happening at once. Trevor had reached him, though his words were nothing but silence in the dull buzz of rain and fire and blood and professors and Hyper Beams.

Yes... Hyper Beams. Raikou was charging one, and Hoary was caught in the crossfire.

"Profe-" Smithley cried.

_BOOOOOOOOOOOOMM!_

Before his very eyes, Hoary's entire body vanished in the wake of the Hyper Beam, clothing and vest and watch and all. So intense was the blowback that it sent both Smithley and Trevor flying towards the descent into the ruins, while Entei crashed through whatever was left of the monument and off the cliff beyond.

Then there was a thud.

A dull thud.

_Thud._

Smithley was sure it was his head pounding now. Either that or registering the fact the professor was dead. And there were gods fighting. How about that?

"GET-"

"Wha?" Smithley stuttered.

"GET-"

"Wha?"

"COME ON, JOSH. WE NEED TO GET OUT! GO!" Trevor screamed, finally breaking through the haze.

Smithley allowed his friend to yank him back to his feet, though fear overrode whatever stupor he had at the moment. It was simply too much. For now, he was content to run as far away as possible. Trevor would lead the way, right?

Yes, running sounded good. Fearing for his life, Smithley ran back into the dim glow of Daybreak Ruins, covered from head to toe with the blood of a god.

**~ Chapter End ~**


	5. Four: A Path Less Traveled

_There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk. - G.K._

* * *

 

**~~0~0~~**

**Four**

**A Path Less Traveled**

**~~0~0~~**

"Well, I think I got most of it off."

"Thanks, Trev. Anything behind us?"

Smithley frizzled his hair, soaked with a mixture of the recent rain and the cold allure of a large pond. Trevor scanned the horizon for danger, but sensing none, he replied in the negative.

The fifteen-year-old's brow furrowed, mired with a sadness weighing at the bottom of his heart. "Where is everyone? Weren't they in front of us?"

Trevor sighed, sinking under the shade of a nearby tree. "I dunno. They all... scattered, I guess. It's just us left."

Both of them shared a knowing gaze, Smithley being more than sure the professor's fate weighed heavily on several minds today. Seeing him being instantly vaporized by a god's Hyper Beam was almost too much to deal with, let alone registering the fact he was...  _gone._ One of the best professors Granite Hills Academy had to offer found his entire life, hopes, and dreams destroyed by a bizarro situation pulled straight from a theme park called FreakyLand.

Trevor stood straight up, clasping his forehead. "Oh my gods."

"Dude?"

He started chuckling, pacing back and forth furiously. "Just great. This is our luck."

"Okay Trev, I'm going to need you to calm-"

"CALM?!" he yelled. "How can I be CALM after seeing our professor get blown to literal hell by a beam of death?! How can I be CALM after you got showered in blood and we practically drowned it off? How can I be CALM when we're stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere miles from any semblance of civilization?!"

"Okay, I know this looks bad."

"YEAH, IT'S BAD! THANKS, JOSH! THANKS FOR STATING THE OBVIOUS!"

"Damn it," Smithley hissed, reaching forward and shaking Trevor from side to side. "Pull yourself together, man. We can grieve later, but I kinda want to do it while we're still fucking alive, y'know?"

"How are you even staying this calm? Arceus almighty, this is creepily unnatural," Trevor hissed, his voice still an octave higher than normal.

"I've had practice."

"I figured. Okay, okay, we can do this. We just need to... figure out a way back to civilization. You've got this, right Josh?"

Smithley licked his lips, its chapped edges a stark reminder of the scene that had unfolded in front of him mere hours prior. Or at least it felt like hours...

Maybe the blood rain did something to him. Or maybe not. He didn't seem to feel any negative effects aside from a ringing in his head that had stopped only recently; a normal everyday being-attacked-by-a-god type of experience thus far. After a few moments of reflection, he spoke.

"Well, if I can find a way there first, sure. Just... give me a minute. I've barely taken any survival courses."

"If it helps," Trevor began, taking a second to splash some cold water on his face, "it's not like there's a ton of towns nearby. Tilt Village's the only settlement on this side of this hellish island, so it can't be that far."

"I'm counting on it. We came into the ruins the usual way from the west, but we did get some help from that weird guy with the Pidgeot taxi service and got in quicker. Still no clue how the professor knew him, but that part's not important. Then on the way out, I think we ran south..."

With that in mind, Smithley scanned the area surrounding the pond, a hand shielding his face from the sun's harsh gaze. The weather had returned more or less to normal, helping stoke the eerieness of the environment. The air was still, the local Pokemon had retreated to places unknown, and not a soul could be seen moving anywhere. The only thing even remotely of interest appeared to be clumps of dirt snaking down a grassy knoll about half a mile in the distance.

Dirt? Bingo.

Smithley sighed in relief. "Hey, Trev! I think there's a footpath over there."

"Thank Arceus. At least I'm not going to die here with you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The fifteen-year-old gestured to start walking, but was stopped as he looked back at his best friend. Trevor was staring at the pale-blue pond, its crystal silhouette devoid of any ripples. A few Goldeen were huddled at the bottom, wary of the two travelers-turned-escapees lurking nearby. They were right to be afraid, what with the massive shifts of weather preceding the arrival of several mysterious strangers.

"Uh, how are you holding up?" Smithley asked, growing concerned by what appeared to be a quarter-life crisis of some sort.

"Thinking about the futility of being alive and how I might never take a sip of such beautiful water again, especially after we lost our canteens," Trevor muttered.

"Tell you what, when we get back, you can take as many sips as you want from that epic purifier they just put in the cafeteria."

"That  _is_  a great purifier. I love that thing," he admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets and sauntering forward. "Fine. The walk of death it is."

"See? Now that's the Trevor I know; pouring out bucketfuls of enthusiasm was always your thing."

"Oh, shut up."

Either the heat was making them walk faster or it was a delusion, but Smithley was pleased with how quickly they reached the knoll. The clumps of dirt from earlier had clearly developed into a beaten path of sorts, which seemed to wind a little ways south, then west back towards the way the entire group had come from.

Speaking of groups, the lack of people around was starting to get disturbing. Smithley was unsure if it was because a few had either ran as hard as they possibly could or got lost, maybe a mixture of the two. Perhaps the ruins held some of them still. He didn't know, nor did he particularly care. Not out of a sense of callousness, but he was pretty sure going back to the ruins or going the opposite direction would result in certain death. And right now, life seemed to be a way better option.

"When we get back to town," Trevor started, "we gotta let the academy know what happened. Search parties... everything."

"You've got it, man," Smithley assured, continuing to guide his best friend due west down a gentle slope. It was downhill from here, a recline banking all the way to the coast at the edge of the island. Tilt Village couldn't be much further beyond that.

The sun continued to beat down, making Smithley wonder how his old Houndour was doing. It was odd, he supposed- that Pokemon's fate didn't cross his mind often anymore. It was likely the similarity of this environment to the day he let his partner go allowed the memory to trigger. A mixture of shame, regret, and uncertainty gripped him as well as it did two years ago.

Trevor cleared his throat after a solid half hour of walking. "The professor... did he have family?"

"I think so. I mean, he mentioned he was divorced once, but I'm pretty sure he had a kid."

Clicking his tongue, the breeder-in-training held his head high in shame. "I was so close, Josh. We could've saved him."

"There was nothing we could've done. How do you compete with gods?" Smithley asked metaphorically, jumping off a small ledge in front of him. "Sometimes the only thing we can do is accept thing things we can't do."

"Didn't you say something like that when you told me your dad died?" Trevor panted, taking a second to rest his weight on his knees.

"I did. I couldn't do anything then. Couldn't do anything now," the fifteen-year-old admitted. Trevor was one of very few people he entrusted with his feelings on the matter, and it showed.

In some ways, Professor Hoary's death reminded Smithley of his father's. Both were left to the winds of fate, and both left him feeling as if he should shoulder some of the blame. The difference being he actually felt sadness over Hoary's passing; being estranged from the whole family took its toll over the years.

"Half serious suggestion, Josh," his best friend continued, "you should drop the statistics certification and go for psychology if you're going to stick around. Nobody ever takes it, so you'd be perfect!"

"A psychiatrist? Pft. I have less of a grasp on myself than you think."

Trevor hopped over a rock, his pale white skin a stark contrast to the background. "But that's why you'd be impeccable. I even don't feel that bad anymore. Well, yeah, sorta bad, but not like bad-bad.  _Definitely_  not as bad as when the gods showed up."

Smithley untied his academy jacket, throwing it over his shoulder. "What  _was_  up with that, anyway? The fuck was Entei and Raikou here for?"

"Beats me. You're the textbook guy."

"I know. Still... it kinda feels like Arceus decided to throw this at us for a sicko laugh. Yeah, yeah, he's supposedly in eternal sleep, but you get my point."

"Wait 'til Tom and Ellie hear about this," Trevor exhorted. "This is almost as unbelievable as you winning the cup."

The fifteen-year-old rolled his eyes. "It's not that unbelievable. I've still got another week and a half. Everything's going to work out, just like us getting back to civilization. Those rooftops over there are looking pretty great to me about now."

"Wait, what?!"

Smithley pointed to a cluster of brown spots on the horizon, visible from his vantage point. In the midst of a lengthy conversation and miles of walking, the structures making up Tilt Village came within sight far sooner than he was hoping. Sure, he and Trevor were definitely hungry and thirsty, but the trek back seemed to have taken up only most of the morning, with the sun now reaching slightly halfway across the sky.

"We're saved!" Trevor panted, breaking into a light jog. "Holy shit, this is amazing. We might be able to get everyone rescued after all."

Smithley kept up with his pace, sweat pouring from around his body. "Here's hoping."

Together, the duo inched closer and closer to the village, the dirt path now transitioning to cobblestone on its very outskirts. A headache was beginning to form, but Smithley didn't care. There was so much to process and such little time in which to do it. Hopefully, the local Pokemon Center would take in two teenagers who looked like they had been through hell and back.

Even still, for a split second, the fifteen-year-old felt a fleeting moment of panic surge through him. What if Entei's blood had really done something? In normal circumstances, there'd be nothing at all, but this was a god who was perfectly capable of reshaping entire landmasses.

Freak out moment of the year? Probably. There was nothing to worry about, especially with the village gate directly up ahead. After all-

"Dude, stop. Stop. Stop for a second," Smithley barked.

Trevor halted. "What?"

Smithley grasped his forehead, feeling a tang of pain work its way across his cranium. It was almost as if radio static had decided to come alive, thrumming across his entire skull. Words tried emerging out of the fuzz, but nothing discernable.

"We're so close bro," Trevor pleaded, Smithley allowing him to pull his hand gently. "Hold on for a little longer, and we'll get you some help."

"It hurts..."

"You've got this, Josh. Remember how you're a complete failure at battling?"

"How does that help?!"

"It doesn't, but maybe the negatives cancels each other out."

"I seriously don't know how you passed science-"

Jolting straight up, Smithley could feel the pressure leave him as quickly as it had come. It was simply  _gone_ , for lack of a better explanation. Trevor noticed this too, confusion working its way across his facial features.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I think so," muttered the fifteen-year-old, puzzled at how odd and sudden the sensation was. "Let's just keep moving. I can see the center dead ahead."

Choosing to shove aside what happened for now, the duo made a beeline straight through the Tilt Village gate, which was nothing more than birch wood bent across to make an arch. Their hurried paces raised the attention of a few citizens milling about, the majority of whom were sequestered on their front porches. It mattered little, for most of them turned back to whatever they were doing, and even more seemed to ignore the hubbub as if such things were simply a part of daily life around here.

Steps away, the familiar silhouette of the Pokemon Center comforted Smithley and Trevor alike. Its blue and red design wrapped around the entire structure all the way to its second level, offering comfort and shelter to those who needed it. The academy's center may have been nicer, but this one was definitely up there in standards. Even without being inside yet, the sense of safety emanating from the structure offered a solid dose of relief.

"Finally," Trevor muttered, motioning to hang on. "What are we supposed to say, dude? Nobody's going to buy the god thing."

Smithley looked around the street, scrunching in concentration. "Let's report our missing people to the cops; there's a satellite station inside. After that, we'll get some food and water in us, then worry about what happens next."

"T-that sounds pretty good to me. Oh, I still can't believe we're alive. Wait 'til the academy finds out, though..."

The fifteen-year-old didn't discount the possibility that they would have to go straight back to the academy afterward. It was only several more miles north of the village, having passed through here on the way to the ruins. It would also not be moot to dismiss the possibility of running into other survivors on the way; maybe they had already been through here. If so, then there was the hope no stragglers were hiding out in fear. It would make it all the more difficult for rescue parties to find them.

Speaking of hiding, Smithley caught something in the corner of his eye while doing a sweep of their current situation. In any other circumstance, he would've ignored it, but the familiarity of the shape allowed some memories to revisit him.

Nah. Not possible.

The fifteen-year-old narrowed his eyes, giving his best friend a hard nudge. "Hey, isn't that..."

"I think it is!" Trevor exclaimed. "No way! It couldn't possibly be!"

In front of the duo, Dan's Charmander was curled under the steps of Tilt Village's only hotel, right across the street from the Pokemon Center. The flame on the back of its tail glowed dimly, indicating the Lizard Pokemon wasn't in the greatest of health.

Smithley was positive it was Dan's Charmander. The species was already incredibly rare as it was, and this specific Pokemon happened to have a unique pattern splayed across its back. Additionally, its body matched that of male Charmanders, perfectly fitting Dan's odd insistence of having male-only teams for peak optimization.

"What the hell is it doing here?" Trevor questioned, inching ever so closer to the sleeping Pokemon. "Dan couldn't have let him go already, could he?"

"He did it with the Phanpy he had one year, remember?"

The breeder-in-training sighed. "Oh yeah. I keep forgetting how much of a dick he can be."

Smithley exhaled some air, trying to center himself. "We all do. I mean, he does technically follow the guidelines for releasing Pokemon. Still an asshole, though."

Trevor ran a hand through his frizzy curls. "Josh, doesn't it always strike you as odd how hands-off the faculty are with this whole shitshow? Catch and release, the bullshit initiation, everything. We've talked about it before, but wasn't there a policy or something?"

"Yes and no," Smithley responded. "Apparently the academy succeeds because that kind of policy works. I'm also partially sure there's something fishy going on with Kasa and her whole president shtick. Still can't believe Tom's her grandson."

"Right?!"

Charmander stirred in the midst of the commotion, startled by the voices that rose him from his slumber. A loud  _chirp_  could be heard, its resonance taking on a fearful tone.

The fifteen-year-old's heart sank upon noticing a jagged scar several inches across Charmander's right forearm, its discoloration indicating relative freshness. Pokemon healed much more quickly than humans to be sure, but even that couldn't cover up how prominent the mark was.

"Hey little man," Smithley cooed, lowering his hands in a surrendering pose, "we're not gonna hurt you, okay? Just please... come out."

The Lizard Pokemon narrowed his eyes warily, choosing to withdraw under the steps even further. He didn't seem to be trusting of strangers at the moment.

Smithley and Trevor shared a look. One thing poked at both of their minds; it wouldn't be beneath Dan to do something like this. He may never have crossed the line to straight on corporal punishment, but he might've been foolish enough to try at some point. Who knew? Maybe he did do this on the regular.

"Yeah, I don't think he's coming out," Trevor assessed, slinging the tatters of his academy-issued backpack to his other shoulder. "Poor guy."

Despite how bizarre this day was shaping up to be, a proverbial lightbulb went off. The storm of several days prior crossed Smithley's thoughts; he'd never let Charmander go through something like that again. Sleeping in the dirt was no place for a Pokemon like this, nor was whatever gave him such a fresh scar.

"Trev, do me a favor and grab Nurse Joy from the center, will ya?"

"Sure thing, bud," he replied, dashing across the street and disappearing beyond the sliding doors of Tilt's Pokemon Center.

Smithley turned back to Charmander. "You're going to be fine. Joys are some of the best nurses out there. In fact, I'll let you on a little trade secret - they only look  _slightly_ alike. Do they look the same to you Pokemon, I wonder? I'll admit I never understood the pink hair thing they have going on, but that's irrelevant."

"Char?"

"I-"

Once more, a familiar humming splintered its way across Smithley's cranium. Radio static erupted out of nowhere, causing him to fall to his knees. He cried out in pain, not expecting the blowback of how much stronger this sensation was. It was almost as if someone was taking a pickaxe to his skull and started chipping at it repeatedly.

"Char!"

The Charmander started easing out under the steps, trotting closer with curiosity.

 _Great. He'll only come when I'm crippled_ , Smithley thought.

_"Come."_

_"What?"_

Smithley stumbled back, shocked at being able to finally discern a word from the static. He couldn't just hear it; he could  _feel_  it coursing through him. There was no rhyme or reason to the voice, let alone understanding where and whom it had come from.

_"Red."_

_"Huh?"_

Smithley didn't know what was weirder - hearing the word  _red_  or being able to even reply to it in the first place. It was so easy to respond; the lack of effort spent doing so was scarily unnatural.

He then proceeded to vomit, the spray showering all over the body of poor Charmander. The Lizard Pokemon staggered back in horror and disgust, his flame lighting a little stronger in what appeared to be anger at the unprovoked action.

"Gah... sorry, sorry, SORRY!" Smithley stammered, tripping back over the cobblestone street behind him. "Oh, Arceus almighty."

"CHAR!" hissed the Kanto starter, chattering excitedly in what appeared to be a scolding motion of some kind.

Smithley still felt an immense amount of relief. He would gladly take being chewed out by a fire lizard over suffering that radio staticky torture again. It vanished from his mind mere seconds before he threw up, the sensation being what triggered it happening in the first place. He only wished he could've explained it to Charmander, who had switched to rolling around on the street trying to get the vomit off.

"Hey, I brought Joy with me... holy fuck, what happened? Did you do that?" Trevor sputtered, popping up right behind the two of them with a lady adorned in a white hospital skirt and pink curls. A Chansey followed alongside, obviously an assistant to the nurse.

Smithley wiped his mouth, groaning in exasperation. "It's a long story. Take him, please."

Nurse Joy nodded, her mouth curving upwards in a sympathetic smile. "Chansey, my dear. Teleport this Charmander to holding bay three, would you?"

"CHANSEY!"

_Fwoom!_

In a flash, the Fire Lizard Pokemon vanished out of sight and presumably into one of the medical wards located inside the Pokemon Center. Chansey recoiled, the power required to sustain Teleport being no slouch to take on. It was rarely used in battle and even rarer still with ordinary applications. Chanseys employed by Nurse Joys found their use best suited for dealing with unruly patients or hard-to-get Pokemon, Charmander being a prime example.

Trevor whistled. "Seems like you had an eventful occasion."

"Ugh. Understatement of the century," Smithley groaned, struggling to his feet. "I think I need to see a doctor, Trev. My head - it happened again. Then it left. Then I think a voice was talking to me. Maybe I  _am_ going crazy."

"Imma do whatever it takes to help you, man. Hang tight."

Nurse Joy piped in. "We have a doctor on site. Please, you two, come on in. All resources here in the center are at your disposal, and Charmander will be just fine momentarily. A level three healing diagnostic should be adequate for your Pokemon's needs."

A chorus of "thanks nurse" reverberated, Smithley limping into the sliding doors with Trevor by his side. Joy and Chansey followed, the two of them quickly disappearing behind the counter and into the medical bays at the back out of sight. Human medicine was not their area of expertise, so the assumption was that they were moving to work on Charmander.

Honestly, the most miraculous part was how they didn't seem to notice the disheveled figures of both academy students. Perhaps it was a common occurrence of some sort.

A question snaked through Smithley's subconscious, "Hey, wait. Did she say  _my_ Pokemon? Trev, you explained the situation, right?"

"Well," Trevor began, showing the fifteen-year-old to a small waiting area on the right-hand side of the center, "the whole thing looked urgent, so I told her there was a Pokemon who wouldn't come out and needed help. I guess she thought it was yours."

"Definitely not mine. We're both out of luck in that department."

"After today, I think we might want to consider the option a little more strongly," Trevor stressed. "Now, you hang tight while I file a report with Mr. Donut Guy over there and get those search parties rolling. Then we'll have the doctor see you, huh buddy?"

Smithley snorted. "Sure. Go nuts, dad."

He allowed himself to slide into a hardback chair, throwing down what remained of both his jacket and bag and choosing to fully embrace the crisp air flowing around him. Meanwhile, his best friend began conversing rapidly with a rather bulky cop on the other end of the center. The ventilation was at full blast, fighting against the summer heat radiating from outside. Everything seemed cramped to Smithley, a wide array of services surrounding him from top to bottom. This center had the standard healing area and mart complex that could be found in all of Oblivia, but with even more things jammed inside. Seeing a mini police station and a doctor's clinic within those walls was probably due to Tilt Village's relatively small status. Full-sized buildings would be a waste of space and resources here.

Closing his eyes, Smithley allowed the full brunt of his feelings to hit him at once. He had been holding it off for as long as possible, but being back in relative safety did wonders for actually being able to process things. Spurts of shame, regret, anger, surprise, confusion, and a dozen other emotions swirled within him, fueling his inner turmoil. For every question answered this morning, a dozen more arrived to take its place.

Why did Entei and Raikou appear? Why was he getting those headaches? How could he be hearing voices? What was he going to do with that Charmander? What about the Verdure Cup? What about tearing down the old guard?

A visit to the academy library was in short order once they all got back, that was for sure. Hopefully, everybody else was still alive, wherever they were.

Speaking of which, Trevor walked back over to Smithley with an upbeat demeanor. "Good news. Two of our guys were actually spotted running through town about an hour before us. That, plus some people saw that weird weather from here. So... yeah, they're going to send out a few units and try to get the scoop on the situation."

The fifteen-year-old exhaled with relief. "That  _is_  good news. Now, if I can see a doctor, that'd be even better news to me."

"Ah, right. So strange, dude. Besides all that dirt and sweat on ya, you look okay. You said it comes and goes?"

"Periodically, yes. I  _do_ feel fine when it's not happening, though."

"You don't think-"

"Boys?"

Smithley and Trevor stood at attention, both noticing Nurse Joy coming by. They motioned for her to speak further.

"Other than the scar, Charmander is in relatively good health. We hooked up a Hyper Potion formula and synthesized it to his bloodstream, and the tail flame is burning robustly within optimal levels. He's all set, but we do need to talk about-"

"The scar?" Smithley interrupted. "I figured you'd ask that, but the Pokemon isn't mine. We just found him under those hotel steps."

"Ah. I see," Joy mused. "No previous owner?"

"Actually, yes. He's had one. We think the last guy released him."

The nurse frowned, stroking her chin in thought. "Unfortunate. Ideally, we'd like to ensure this specific Pokemon remains with a trainer. From his behavior and the chip we identified in his right leg, he was raised from an egg. Wild living would not be beneficial in any meaningful way."

"Dan must've gotten him elsewhere," Trevor muttered, Smithley mutually agreeing with him.

"Additionally, would one of you consider taking this Charmander on?" Joy asked. "Given your prior familiarity, this would help greatly. I know I'm putting you gentlemen in a tough spot, but we can't house Pokemon indefinitely. He needs a little love, that's all."

Smithley felt a spark work its way through his heart, coinciding with Trevor's not-so-subtle kick to his shins. His best friend knew him too well, unfortunately.

Biting his lower lip, the fifteen-year-old knew he hadn't given the matter much thought, but he may as well do it now. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. Right this way, if you're feeling well enough to the task."

"I am. It's appreciated all the same."

It was a short minute later that Smithley entered the medical bay housing Charmander, clutching a miniature Pokeball in his right hand. It wasn't extended to full size, but his palms were still pouring with sweat all the same. Nurse Joy had slipped it to him on the way in, having a massive supply of them on hand thanks to the nature of her profession.

Charmander huffed upon sighting the person who had violated him so horrifically, turning his head aside in haughty ignorance. Smithley felt shame course through him, but counteracted it with measured optimism. This  _was_ the right thing to do. He would be lying if he said that his recent realizations hadn't changed him in a way to even so much consider doing this.

Smithley glanced back to Trevor, who was leaning on the doorway behind him with a small smile. He asked his best friend a question with his eyes.

_Should I?_

The gentle nod in response was more than enough.

Clearing his throat, Smithley began. "So... how you doing?"

"Char! Char. Chara!" hissed the Fire Lizard Pokemon, thumping the table he was currently standing on.

"Sorry about earlier, y'know. Not sure how much of this you can actually understand, but still. Sorry."

"Cha..."

"You're the get right down to business type too? Fine, you caught me," Smithley chuckled, revealing the Pokeball he currently held. "I can't make any promises for you, but I can offer you safety. Maybe a little revenge deal if you're interested. Friendship if you want it too; I make some really great burgers from time to time."

"Gyun! Chara, char!" barked Charmander, obviously hesitant of what was being signaled. Smithley didn't blame him in the slightest.

In reality, the fifteen-year-old was hoping beyond hope the spritely fire starter would come voluntarily. He knew more than anything he could never force Charmander to do this, especially not after what Dan did. His  _unusual_ methods made him undeserving of a Pokemon like this, and Smithley wanted more than nothing to stop him from doing it to other Pokemon as well. With the Verdure Cup coming up, this was the perfect opportunity. The strongest of the strongest trainers at the academy set the example, no doubt.

"So... how about it? Are you in or not?"

Charmander took a step forward. "Chara, kyah. Char!"

Why the Fire Lizard Pokemon wasn't outright afraid of humans despite what he went through, Smithley wasn't sure. It was almost as if there was something drawing him to the fifteen-year-old.

No. More like there was something drawing the both of them together. He couldn't quite put a finger on it yet, and neither could Charmander if body language was anything to go by. Smithley supposed it was why he wasn't demanding to see a doctor at this very moment; he had a theory brewing at the back of his head. If he was right, then his entire world would be blown upside down.

"Well? I think you and I both know the answer," he finished, allowing the Pokemon to wrap up its moment of contemplation.

And with that, Charmander replied.

"Char!"

**~ Chapter Four End ~**


	6. Five: Requiem

_How can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who are left behind? - D.P._

* * *

  **~~0~0~~**

**Five**

**Requiem**

**~~0~0~~**

Hope. Spirit. Memory. Blight. Fire was a symbol for many things, but today it only had one purpose - tribute.

"He was a good man," piped up one student, nodding respectfully to the eternal flame.

Another stepped forward, this time a senior on the cusp of graduation. "I had him every single year. He'd talk about history nonstop, but I guess that's what made him happy. And it made some of us happy too. Truly."

Smithley inclined his head in agreement, smoothing out the wrinkles in his black suit. He only brought it out for special occasions, and there was no better place to do this than at the funeral for a much-loved person by various members of Granite Hills Academy. It was a testament to Hoary's nature that despite the differences between many of the students, a large number of them attended today out of respect for their fallen teacher. It appeared his life had touched many, an observation that was heartwarming to no end.

Tom cleared his throat off to Smithley's right, putting some oomph into his words. "Hi. Let's cut to the chase - I had to take his class for my technician certificate. It wasn't much, but I'm glad it was him. I'm a better person for it now."

Ellie and Trevor blew air from their sinuses, Smithley knowing they both were in silent agreement with him on one thing. Tom was terrible at funerals.

Not that there was a barometer to measure the number of times they were all at funerals, but having one would be nice.

Up ahead on a podium, the academy's very own President Kasa coughed in discomfort, the eternal flame's light glinting off her lavender hair. "Thank you all for providing words of much-needed comfort today. As stipulated, Miss Ellie will finish off our service with a few verses of her choosing. Please, my dear. Proceed."

You've got this, Smithley thought as his young friend clambered up the steps to the makeshift platform. He hadn't helped her practice the night before for nothing.

Ellie wrung her hands, the twilight sky behind her giving the solemnity of the gathering a haunted vibe. She furrowed her brow, then spoke.

"Death is nothing at all. It does not count."

As she continued, Smithley slowly panned his eyes around the semicircle of mourning students. Trevor and Thomas flanked him on both sides, the duo listening intently to each word. Mike stood on the far left, his reclusiveness perfectly mirroring how content he was to beeline straight back to the academy after the attack - he had ended up being one of the two people spotted running through Tilt Village before Smithley came through. Kyle was somewhere in the middle, a war of conflict written across his face. Various others milled around, totaling about a hundred.

"I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened."

Kasa blinked, a mask of utter neutrality decorating her posture. Even after two years in the academy, Smithley still couldn't figure out her game. She seemed content to let Dan and company control large portions of the battling program, yet kept them at arm's reach. There was more to this particular dynamic than meets the eye.

"Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged."

The eternal flame crackled, housed inside a ten-foot silver torch about fifty paces from Elm Hall. It was Hoary's favorite location on campus due to history classes being held there, and so it was where he would be remembered.

"Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Life is a song - sing it to the end."

After the final word, Ellie exhaled a sharp breath, tucking in one of her golden curls. "This was a favorite of the professor's. I'm still a newbie, but he practically took me in. The few weeks in which I knew him was a true honor, and I... I-I do hope he's at peace now."

Polite applause smattered amongst those present, and Smithley joined in out of hope not to be seen as rude. It still didn't stop him from cringing slightly, as this didn't seem like the time or place to do so despite how well Ellie had performed. Even his assessments by the doctors a little over a week ago was less uncomfortable than this.

At the very least, there was a happy part of this whole ordeal. After returning to the academy grounds safely, Smithley finally allowed himself to undergo a series of tests recommended by the physicians on staff - it turned out that Tilt Village's center required out of pocket payments for their assistance, which was a hard no for two people who had no money on hand at the time. Brain and physical scans showed nothing wrong with the fifteen-year-old at all, oddly enough. Blood samples also returned negative.

The breaking point was when therapy was recommended, honestly. If his story hadn't been backed up by the survivors of the attack, Smithley was pretty sure he was going to claw someone.

Kasa cleared her throat, snapping him out of his stupor. "Many latitudes to this young lady here for taking the time to do this. As president of this fine academy, I will do everything in my power to ensure this memorial remains preserved. Gone, but not forgotten in our hearts."

Smithley rolled his eyes as discreetly as possible, having no doubt his friends and several others were doing the same. No disrespect to the professor intended, but anyone worth their salt could deduce the front Kasa put on while performing official duties. She looked like she wanted to be somewhere else most of the time, if not cooped up in her office already.

The president continued. "And that will be that. Curfew is in one hour, so you may all disperse. But before you go, one final reminder - the twenty-seventh annual Verdure Cup begins tomorrow at noon. All classes have been canceled for the duration of three days exclusively for this event, so be sure to enjoy yourselves. Schedules and assignments will be posted in the morning; the early Taillow gets the worm. Farewell, my students, and best of luck."

The cluster of students began to disperse and head off back to their lodges, Smithley heeding the robotic words of the academy's leader. It would be of more value to him and others if she were to remain, but alas, she had made it perfectly clear beforehand that she was off to Sophian Island directly after the funeral. True to her word, Kasa trotted back towards Howe Domicile, the academy's administrative building, to pick up her bags.

"She does this at our family reunions too," Thomas commented, moving into lockstep with Smithley. "Mom always thought it was weird. She sees more of Doc Edward and Hocus than us, realistically speaking."

"And what happens when a president, doctor, and magician walk into a bar?" Trevor asked, snorting slightly. He waved to one of the funeral's attendees off in the distance, edging closer to Smithley and Thomas' current position.

"Something something bamboozled," Ellie answered, her inky skirt swaying in the breeze offered by the sinking sun. She caught up, scrunching her nose with a tang of disapproval. "This is a funeral, Trev. Your joke sucked."

"Wow, thanks. I thought you were glad to see me alive after the ordeal Josh and I went through," he teased.

"Alive? Sure, dummy. I don't miss your bad jokes, that's all."

Despite the current mood, Smithley was glad those two had returned to their normal banter. They were good for each other as friends often were, juggling a fine balancing act with seriousness and quips at the right times. Even Thomas wasn't bothered by the interruption, Smithley quickly recognizing he had come to the same conclusion. His friends were chosen well, indeed.

In all honesty, the most remarkable thing about this whole interaction was how well Ellie seemed to be taking the loss of the professor, quickly switching to her usual demeanor. Smithley highly suspected she was bottling some of her feelings up, the same as the rest of the others. He and Trevor were doing it too, but the former was the bigger concern.

"Speaking of bad jokes," Thomas began, seizing an opportunity in a lapse of silence, "Josh, let's hear yours again. I need to make sure it's actually real."

"It's not so much a bad one as it is physical," shot back the fifteen-year-old. "Also, who's lacking faith now?"

"Oh, fuck off."

Smithley looked to see if the coast was clear. Catching sight of nobody, he quickly slid out his Pokeball and popped it open. A brief flash ensued, Charmander fading into existence at the end of the white beam emanating from the capsule. The glow radiating from the Lizard Pokemon's fiery tail illuminated the darkening sky, crackling in synch with the eternal flame some ways in the distance. As soon as he hit the ground, he edged several feet back from the four people looking at him.

"CHAR!"

"I still can't believe you actually managed to pull it off," Thomas muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "And to think all it took was you getting attacked by a few gods - guess I was wrong."

"Oh, this is so exciting," Ellie chirped. "You're really, really, really gonna do this. It's actually happening!"

"Sure is," Smithley replied, feeling pleased with himself. For a few days before the trip to the ruins, he was starting to seriously doubt having the mettle to follow through on his promises. But here he was.

Not to say things had been easy going, however. Deep down inside, Smithley remained afraid. He had rejected a Pokemon once before in his life, albeit in entirely different circumstances. With the way Charmander was eying those who were curious about him, he still wasn't quite on board with extensive human contact. Together, both dynamics had made for some fairly interesting situations recently.

Trevor clicked his tongue, his voice booming against the stars above. "Let it be known I was there to witness Josh Smithley actually do something. Ladies and gentlemen, he's got a Pokemon, he's got a will, and he's going to go far in this tournament."

"Pipe down Trev," hissed the fifteen-year-old. "Everyone's out of sight, but that doesn't mean they're out of earshot. I'd like to keep my entrance under wraps."

"Ha," Thomas snorted, jabbing a thumb at Charmander. "Sure, you'll make some waves alright, but I think you and I both know Dan's probably taken a peek at the roster layout by now. Why else do you think he wasn't at the funeral?"

"Good riddance if you ask me," grumbled Ellie, waving at the uneasy starter. "He didn't deserve to be there anyway. Not... not after what he did. Not after what he's done. I kinda wish I could have another shot at him, but it'd end up being like the first time..."

"You'll have to get in line," Smithley sighed, mimicking his friend's movements - some form of comfort for his partner seemed to help in times such as these. "I know I'll have to fight him at some point, but I did at least promise I'd try and work my way into the middle of this shitshow for you guys. I can't assure much else."

"Gyah! Chara, Char!" barked the Fire Lizard Pokemon, having just as much of an emotional stake in this tournament for obvious reasons.

"Don't do this for us," Ellie advised. "Win it for the professor. Cranidos and I didn't help you and Charmander out for nothing, right?"

"Yes, you guys were a great help," assured Smithley, smiling slightly. "We couldn't have found better partners in crime, if I do say so myself."

Trevor gagged, making a puking motion with his fingers. He was rewarded with a smack upside the head, courtesy of Ellie. Her time spent hitting the books as a newly-minted history major with a concentration in ancient hieroglyphics was being put to great use if Smithley said so himself. Hoary's connection with the young girl had paid off despite her being barred from entering the coveted battling program. Mega evolution would have to wait.

"Aw, thanks," she acknowledged, eliciting a loud yawn. It was getting late, and all the chaos recently was wearing her out.

Even still, the fifteen-year-old was more than grateful for the help Ellie and her partner provided. It took a good day for her to wear off the initial shock of him actually having a Pokemon, but a miniature regimen was quickly established. It was tough to keep this a secret from the entire academy at first, especially Dan, but some nighttime training away from the grounds and out of earshot of the nighttime patrols was nice. Granted, the surprise was probably blown at this point, but Smithley highly doubted Dan would make it his business to have anyone know but himself.

As Smithley trained with Charmander, a bigger question weighed on his mind - why did Dan release a Pokemon as capable as this one? Begrudging acceptance had evolved to a steady rhythm, but this Charmander was no slouch. And, if Smithley was being honest with himself, working with his newfound partner was making him start to actually enjoy seeing what Pokemon can do. The prospect of battling started to have a tang to it. Not for inflicting damage on others, but to share what could be capable with such bonds.

"As fun as this conversation has been," finished Thomas, "I do have to make some final adjustments to the complex for tomorrow; four matches at once are really going to take a toll on our circuitry. Josh, try not to die. Trev, make sure he doesn't. Ellie... cheer them on, I guess. I'll be watching from the control room."

Assents of sure things and bye Tom were passed around, the technician somehow making his way over to the trainer complex in what was now full darkness. It didn't hurt that the buildings were still illuminated by outside lighting, however.

"Boy, he really does know how to take the life out of a party," Trevor sighed, throwing his hands onto his hips. "Well, what now? The night's still young."

"Well, I'm out too," Ellie blurted, beginning the trek back to her lodge. "They're serving pancakes first thing, so I'll be up bright and early. But you two have fun!"

"Chara, cha! Cha!" protested Charmander, waving his tiny arms in protest. It appeared he had warmed up to the girl sufficiently enough, the latter being kind enough to say goodbye to the Fire Lizard Pokemon.

"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Trevor. "That girl is way too chipper. Who even hits the hay that early?"

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it too much," Smithley stressed, watching her disappear into the darkness. "She hasn't had the futility of life hit her like a truck yet. Naive innocence's still in that one."

"You don't have to tell me."

"I-"

"CHAR!"

"Oh, whoops. Sorry buddy," apologized the fifteen-year-old. Bouncing back and forth from one person to the next had caused him to neglect Charmander's presence a few times, what with the fire starter oddly wanting to be a part of his conversations. Pokemon were never normally this engaged in human affairs.

"So, like I was saying," continued Smithley, careful to give some eye contact to his partner from time to time, "I'm the deep thinker. Ellie's the happy-go-lucky one. Tom's a nihilist. And Trev... you're the fun clown nobody wants, I guess. That seems to sum all of us up pretty well."

"Gyo, chara. CHA!" Charmander cackled, seemingly having an understanding of the implications behind that statement.

"Bro. I know it's the truth, but it still hurts," Trevor sighed. "And I'm not a clown. I'm technically a junior breeder in training."

While funny all the same, Smithley couldn't help but stroke his chin. This was not the first time his Pokemon had done this - the training sessions with Ellie had also yielded similar situations. Charmander treated each of his interactions with his master's friends differently, especially Tom, who had found out about him much later than the others. The theory Smithley had begun formulating at the back of his head last week came to the forefront, though there was one missing piece of the puzzle - his headaches. They hadn't come back at all, nor seemed to have a trigger of some kind. He needed answers, yet there were none.

Of course, if a certain volcano god was on hand to help, Smithley would rest much easier tonight despite his jitters. But alas, Entei was nowhere to be found according to the latest reports. And, most of all, many questions still remained. Why were Entei and Raikou fighting? What was the extent of Charmander's past with Dan? Why were these mental onslaughts happening? The tip of the iceberg was barely scratched, yet threatened to unleash a maelstrom of further questioning.

Sighing deeply, Smithley made a decision of his own. "Having said that, I think I'm going to crash as well. Let's go, Charmander."

"Char!"

"Hang on a minute!" Trevor exclaimed, stretching out a hand. If Charmander's flame hadn't given off a large enough light, Smithley wasn't sure he would've seen it coming. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Trev," assuaged the fifteen-year-old, patting his best friend's back, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you need to get a life. I actually have a commitment tomorrow, and that's bizarre enough on its own."

"Wow," he sniffled, wiping away a fake tear, "to think it was one month ago our roles were reversed. You're growing up, man. I'm so proud."

"I'm not going to let you regress into a baby either," Smithley promised, reaching for Charmander's Pokeball and sucking his partner back into the capsule with a  _snap._  "Listen, I know what happened recently fucked us all up a bit. You especially. But it won't stop there."

Trevor straightened his back. "How do you mean?"

"I've known you for years, man. I can tell when you're hiding something - you're being way more featherbrained than normal. I'd like to think seeing the professor die and me being drenched in blood would have been been a little traumatizing," stated the fifteen-year-old, pocketing the Pokeball in the folds of his suit.

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah. Here's the thing... Tom and I were talking the other day. Once this craziness blows over, we're going to help you out. I think we could all use a good bit of healing, and it's not like we have a licensed psychiatrist around here anyway."

"Told you that'd be your perfect field," Trevor snorted, shaking his head. "But yeah. I get your point."

Smithley clasped his hands, trying to think how best to phrase what he was going to say next. "I've mentioned it before, and I'll mention it again. I'm not as well put together as people think I am, and I think you know that too. I had no one, Trev. Then you showed up and the rest was history."

His best friend's mood sunk further as he paced in the darkness, his figure barely visible mere feet away. "Have I ever told you why I'm  _really_  pursuing a breeding certificate?"

"Surprisingly, no. Don't think you have to explain-"

"Let me. I came here from Kalos not because I wanted a change of pace. Well, that part's actually true; I didn't lie about that. The  _real_ reason is this - my uncle."

Smithley raised an eyebrow. "Continue."

"When... when the professor got...  _vaporized_ , it looked exactly like the same thing that happened to him. My uncle was a lot of things, but he was never careful enough. He got reckless; then a Snorlax got angry one day and the rest was history. Breeding was never about that reproduction shit for me. No. Breeding is a way for me to make things right. To make Pokemon feel safe. If I could make amends in any meaningful way..."

"You already have, T."

"Not enough," Trevor growled, "Never will be."

"Your uncle - the only way you could blame yourself like this... ah. You were supposed to be there."

Trevor's silence spoke volumes more than a reply ever could.

"That sucks. Well, if we're telling stories, I suppose I should tell you what happened with my dad, then."

"No, Josh. You didn't tell me the details way back when. Not now. We're going to get all sappy."

"Shut up and listen," Smithley barked, clutching his fists. "I may have mentioned how I felt about it, but never the whole story. Do you know why my family blames me?"

"I'm starting to catch on."

"We were hiking up Mount Sorbet on my home island one day. I had daddy issues with him as usual, but treks like these put us at peace for a bit. It got us out of the house and away from the others - not like they were huge fans of me in the first place anyway. One thing led to another... and I spooked an Abomasnow about halfway up to the summit. Triggered a mini-avalanche and watched my dad go under. He got me out of the way before the whole thing took him, but when I close my eyes every night, I can still picture him fading under all that snow. It's bone-chilling, and I mean that quite literally. For the one day he acted like a fucking dad should, he had to go and die. And don't get me started on when they found his body the day after..."

Trevor gulped. "Damn."

"Yeah."

"Well," he began weakly, "here's to dead relatives and a lifetime of crippling guilt."

"Attaboy."

A light popped in the distance, making one of Lodge Seven's log siding go dark. The warm summer air billowed around the duo, Smithley allowing it to consume him fully. Recounting the story was painful, but for the first time in a long while, he felt compelled to share. He supposed it was why he had picked the safe and simple route of analytics when deciding to come to the academy so long ago. Recent events, had, however, prompted him to change course. It made him invest in a higher purpose of some sort, and it drew more and more towards Pokemon as each day passed.

It had not been the Abomasnow's fault. Never was. Time healed many wounds, and he supposed it was why he didn't take the professor's death as hard.

"Anything else you want to bring up while we're emotionally vulnerable?" Smithley chuckled, jerking his head towards his own lodge. "One minute seems to have turned into ten, and we're still yammering at it. Pitch-black darkness to boot."

"Right. Yeah. You gotta get your rest, man," Trevor harped.

"Good. We'll talk again later. You're going to be there watching tomorrow, right?"

"You can count on me. We'll all be there."

"Excellent. I look forward to it."

"And, Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens tomorrow, don't listen to Ellie. She's sweet, but this isn't just for the professor. This is for all of us. We've been wronged, and people like Dan... They're an affront to what we've suffered and seen. This is a road to be so much  _more_."

Smithley could feel the temptation of several goals swirl around his subconsciousness, a result of Trevor's oddly-wise words. They were alluring, but he was focusing on one for now - going as far as he possibly could in the tournament. Even going further than the first round could earn him some much-needed respect around here. Maybe Kasa would do a little more than give him the time of the day after all this.

"I'll keep it in mind. And I expect some jokes for morale too," ordered the fifteen-year-old, shooting some finger guns and backing up towards the general direction of his own bed.

"You've got it, bro. See ya."

With that, the duo parted ways as darkness continued to swirl around Granite Hills Academy. The beacons of light radiating from all the buildings around campus did little to combat them, for death weighed heavily on many minds today. The death of professors, the death of fathers, the death of uncles, the death of ideals, and most of all, the death of innocence.

Yet...

As he walked through the front door of his lodge, Smithley couldn't help but notice a certain poetic justice to his actions recently. Not so long ago, dawn had risen on the day his life had taken a sharp turn. And now darkness fell, casting a shadow on what was to come.

But tomorrow would soon be here. And tomorrow would be vengeance.

**~ Chapter End ~**


	7. Interlude

_A person's true heart reveals itself in a crisis. For it is in one that we are laid bare. - A.D._

* * *

**~~0~0~~**

**Interlude**

**~~0~0~~**

_"Mr. Secretary, Oblivia casts three votes for its native son, Josh Smithley!"_

_"Mr. Secretary, Hoenn casts its eighteen votes for the trainer from Oblivia, Josh Smithley!"_

_The convention roared, cascading degrees of chaos rising from above. The race to the magic number rocked them to their feet, flip-flopping between candidates as the representatives devoted their precious delegates to their future._

_"Mr. Secretary, Unova pledges its twenty-one votes to its native daughter, Iris Katsuna!"  
_

_"Josh! Josh! Josh!"_

"SIR!"

"Yeah?" Smithley jerked, looking up from his briefing papers.

"You all right, sir?"

"Yes, captain. Just... reminiscing. Carry on, please."

The officer straightened the collar of his uniform, worry scrawled across his face. "Very well. Initial reports from intelligence indicate a total mob size of about five hundred. Riots are now spreading to three blocks of the city with the cause still unknown. It's hard to get a picture of what's going on there with most of our support staff missing, though my bet's on anti-globalism sentiment spawned by Go-Rock Squad remnants. They've always had the most pushback to your...  _initiative._ "

Smithley crossed his arms, feeling irritation spread across him as each second passed. "Is there any way we can get a fix on the situation? Can Mr. Spiel get in touch with our people in the embassy?"

All the while, the person in question was speaking rapidly through a headset about twenty feet away, trying to get an assessment of the chaos unfolding on the ground. A large holographic globe shimmered in the center of the room; various screens flickered back and forth while displaying grainy CCTV footage of people smashing windows and storefronts with baseball bats. A few Pokemon appeared to be in the midst of the riots too, but that was at the very least of Smithley's concerns at the moment.

"Well, Alder's down there," continued the captain, earning his keep as an intelligence officer quite well, "so he'd be our best bet for point-to-point contact with the embassy."

A mixture of incredulousness and disbelief struck Smithley's mind. "What the hell is Alder doing down there?"

"He went down for the inauguration, and he may well have the free leader of Fiore locked in the trunk of his car."

"In the trunk of his car?!"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Spiel looked up from whatever he was doing, clutching his headset as if it were a lifeline. "The car's at the embassy gate. I've got the gate on the line."

"Let him in."

"Sir?" butted in the captain.

"LET. HIM. IN!"

Smithley growled, pacing around the length of his situation room. The chaos in Fiore had barely been quelled when he instructed the Ranger Union to dispatch several members of their own to deal with the problem. Despite Solana and Lunick's efforts to stabilize the region as mentioned in their mission report, the unruly wretches of the Go-Rock Squad continued to sow trouble after their defeat.

And now the appointed leader of Fiore was in the trunk of a car and being driven to safety by the former champion of Unova, no less.

"My lord champion?" Mr. Spiel prompted, a phrase that continued to bother the former to no end.

"Yeah?" Smithley asked with bated breath.

"He's in. We're good."

"Thank fuck. Tell Alder to stay put and await further instructions."

"At once, sir."

Despite that immediate issue being solved, Smithley couldn't help but wonder how the whole thing had turned disastrous so quickly. At the invitation of Fiore's elected representatives, he had been more than happy to nominate a candidate to lead the region as a de-facto prime minister during its time of transition. Then one thing led to another and it looked like the entire experiment was backsliding into feudal times. For Arceus' sake, his recommendation had been a native of the region itself.

Did nothing please these people?!

"We're getting some additional feed on the backup cameras now, my lord champion. You'll want to see this," assured the captain, seizing a moment in the hustle and bustle of the crisis.

"Ugh. Enough with the formalities - too much for me. Bring it up on the main viewer."

"Sorry, my- Sorry, sir."

The captain pressed several buttons on the nearest dashboard, scrolling through various encrypted files and data being sent by the literal second from those who were still able to transmit amidst the spotty blackouts of the radio towers.

 _Cracks_  and  _hisses_  buzzed in the air as a live video flared to life, focusing on a brown-haired woman addressing a large crowd on the steps of Fall City's only clock tower. Smithley's mood darkened as he recognized who was speaking, though he had no idea she'd joined the Go-Rock Squad judging by her uniform colors nor had he seen her in years. Of course she'd appear now, and to be frank, what she was saying was a little frightening.

"The time for inaction is over! Year after year we have been oppressed, but no more! The Go-Rock Squad is dead, but its ideals will live on in the hearts and minds of our citizens! Who says we need the faraway eyes of the United Regions and its leader watching us and mandating our every move with a spineless puppet? Fiore is in charge of its own destiny and nobody else's! Now, WHO'S WITH ME?!"

"WE ARE!" roared the crowd, stomping around the square with the ferocity of dozens of Ursarings. Hell, there even  _were_  Ursarings in there too. No doubt a few trainers had found this riot an opportune time to unleash a little havoc.

Smithley groaned, already able to point out at least six incorrect and incredibly misleading statements in that speech. The captain dimmed the feed, causing the monitor to fade into obscurity against the contrast of the holographic globe. It was time to take action against this unrest before it spread elsewhere.

"As you can see, the provocative nature of such a display comes right out of the self-preservation playbook, sir. I recommend we move quickly; this is not a situation you want to let play out for as long as possible."

"Captain, I-"

_"Trouble brewing?"_

_"Not now, Blaze."_

_"Fiore needs an ashy rebirth. I shall be more than happy to assist you."_

_"You? I want Fiore intact, not nuked to the ground by one of your Flamethrowers!"_

_"As you wish."_

Blaze disappeared from their mental communique and back to whatever he was doing, causing Smithley to huff in exasperation. Leave it to his partner to go for the most destructive option possible; being the more cool-headed anchor of the duo could be way too much work sometimes.

"Sir?" asked the captain for the millionth time that day - didn't he have better vocabulary? "You paused in the middle of your sentence. Should I send for anyone?"

"No. I'm sorry, that was an old friend of mine - long story. Anyway, I want you to instruct General Howlinger to relocate two brigades to contain the Fall City uprising. Additionally, one regiment needs to be moved to Summerland and another to Ringtown. I know we have Wintown under control because all our regional Rangers are holed up there, so we're good. Here, I'll put it in writing for you."

With that, Smithley pulled out a correctly-colored piece of paper from the binder he always had on hand. With the utmost urgency, he scribbled a general summary of his orders and his mandatory signature at the bottom. Handing it off to the captain, he nodded as the latter rushed out of the door and down three floors to the military action center. It was easier getting the ball rolling that way, rather than wasting precious minutes creating an uplink for something so close. One of the greatest conveniences of being world champion was being situated in a massive Pokemon League castle designed to respond to almost any threat or interaction at once. Immediate access to nearly every department associated with the United Regions was a massive boon.

Despite the captain's absence, the room was no less alive than it was before. Various aides milled in the background and at stations within, carrying out their duties as appropriate with the magnitude of the problem unfolding. One was at comms, monitoring all traffic that managed to get through. Another was flagging riot locations, and Mr. Spiel as always was chattering away with his headset.

Everyone looked at ease save for Smithley himself. While he would never dare display his feelings outwardly in times such as these, his heart was beating far above its normal rate - it reflected his inner skittishness over the urgency of the situation. This was the very first time his leadership was being tested, and it was an integral part of winning the respect of those who were watching. He didn't win his way here with blood, tears, and politicking for nothing. And even more, he owed Fiore big-time.

Smithley allowed himself to think for a moment, wondering how to exert his control of the situation further. "Who here's in charge of the league hub network?"

A woman on the far left-hand corner of the room raised her hand, her features resembling an older Ellie by ten years. Smithley smiled at the resemblance, remembering his dear friend.

"I am, s-sir."

"Excellent. Get in touch with Cynthia and have her send Lady Platinum to Fiore at once. Do the same for Diantha and get Y on her way too. Both of them should be sufficient enough to get things under control. If not, prepare to deploy White as a reserve."

"Of course," she replied, turning back to her station. There was no doubt she was still intimated by the champion's presence, causing Smithley to ponder the methodology of his predecessor. He could tell from his interactions with his staff over the last few days that they were used to a more gentler approach of some kind.

"Er... Josh?"

Silently rejoicing, the champion swerved towards the origin of such a sweet voice. It had taken no small amount of convincing and bribes in the form of chocolate boxes to get her to shake off the ceremonial language, so this was progress.

"Good to see you, Clarice. What do you need?"

"I, uh, have the form for approval of the first phase of provisions here for you to sign. It'll be faxed to Cubchoo Catering once you give your approval."

Smithley frowned. "Now is not a good time. If there any problems with the planning, tell-"

"The food vendors need to know by the end of the day for long term forecasts. You don't really have a choice...  _sir._ "

Sighing, the most powerful trainer in the world obliged and signed his name yet again, eliciting a look of approval from his assistant. Clarice was always one to get her point across in passive-aggressive ways, and this was no exception. She was clearly shedding her initial awkwardness fairly splendidly.

"Happy now?"

"Very. I would also like to take the time to point out this was all your idea too. The scale of what you're planning... I can't do it by myself. You'll have to put together a committee or take your share of the weight."

Pursing his lips, Smithley knew he was left with little other choices regardless. Even as his staff continued to monitor the current crisis, he was stuck in limbo. On one hand, Fiore had to be dealt with and restored to stability as soon as possible - it was why he went ahead and assigned several of the legendary Dex Holders to back up the incoming military forces. A bit brusque, perhaps, but it would get the job done. On the other hand, the complexity of the event he had brewing at the back of his mind warranted a massive undertaking of resources. Granted, it was still years away, but the volume... sweet Arceus, the volume.

"Alright, schedule a meeting with my Elites next Friday. I want them to help take point on this."

"Sounds good. I'll get it sorted for you now," Clarice responded, her voice growing cheerful upon being relieved of this enormous undertaking. "Have fun!"

"Blaghhh."

With that, his assistant wisely backed out and presumably began making her way back to the location Smithley dubbed as "the office." It was indeed fit for a champion, but he detested the formality of it. He felt more secure here in the situation room or out in the fields training with his Pokemon. The office was for meetings  _only_ , period. Nothing more, nothing less.

Plus the occasional papers. There were a  _few_  here and there.

Mr. Spiel yanked off his headset, his bald top glistening with sweat. "SIR!"

Smithley whirled around, moving over to the communications analyst's location. "What is it?"

"Alder for you. He needs to speak immediately."

"Could've mentioned that five minutes ago when he was on the horn," Smithley chuckled, leaning towards the speakers. Not too close, however - he didn't want to get sweaty too.

"I think he was a little busy escaping a riot at the time, sir," Spiel answered dryly, tapping a blue keyspace. "Boss's on the line, Alder."

"Hey there, Al-"

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Smithley and Mr. Spiel both jumped, flinching at the former champion's uncharacteristic outburst.

"WE ARE TRAPPED HERE IN THIS GODDAMN EMBASSY. I'VE GOT THE PRIME MINISTER LATCHED TO MY HIP AND WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!"

"Back the fuck up," hissed the  _world_  champion. "Since when?"

"Sir, I'm now getting reports of a crowd forming in front of the embassy," chimed in one of the aides, looking up from his station.

"I think we're aware, but thanks. Carry on," Smithley drawled, preparing for the next onslaught.

"SINCE FIVE MINUTES AGO. THIS IS THE WORST VACATION I'VE EVER BEEN ON. I SWEAR TO FUCKING ARCEUS, YOU BETTER HAVE ME ON A TRANSPORT IN THE NEXT FEW HOURS OR I'M TAKING A FUCKING PIDGEY IF I HAVE TO."

"Noted. How's the prime minister?"

"HE'D BE BETTER IF WE WERE BOTH GONE. I WANT PROGRESS SOON OR WE'RE HYPER BEAMING OUT OF HERE! ALDER OUT!"

And just like that, the communications channel cut to silence.

Smithley clenched his teeth. "It's that bad, huh?"

Mr. Spiel nodded. "Yeah."

Squaring his shoulders, the champion trudged to the center of the situation room. The otherwise teal globe had a spot of red hovering around the Fiore region, flickering alongside the occasional update to the holographic display. Looking from north to east to west to south, he took consideration of the other regions located nearby. Although this certain incident seemed isolated strictly to those concerning themselves with Fiore's political situation, trends could always emerge. Orre was at risk, lying in close proximity and having similar strains of nationalism amongst certain fringe groups.

And he was supposed to go there tomorrow morning. It was a no-go until all this settled down, but Smithley took note to ensure this was addressed during his conference with Orre's principal leaders. Hopefully, their differentiating structure would diffuse any semblance of an inherently harmful movement.

 _Shit. I'm glad I brushed up on this before I came on board,_  he thought.

Ellie's lookalike from earlier cleared her throat, speaking above the room's chatter. "Cynthia and Diantha have sent confirmations. Lady Platinum and Y are both en-route. ETA is thirty-six hours for both with a designated landing site at Fall Port."

"Excellent. Good work, er... what's your name?"

"Mikaela, sir."

"Mikaela. Good to have you here."

The woman smiled. "Thank you, sir. Any other advisories you would like me to issue?"

"Actually, yes. Tell them... tell them to please avoid as much collateral damage as possible - I don't want to have to sink into our GRF fund. And please, for the love of Arceus, avoid using the legendaries. I'm not having the bird of death and the devil casting more fear into an already terrorized populace."

"Um... okay. Will do."

"Don't worry. As long as you haven't been a complete dick in life, you won't have to worry about these two, Smithley assured. "The afterlife is way more simple than you'd think it is."

"C-can I ask how you know, sir?"

"Mikaela, I learned a long time ago that long stories immediately follow questions like these. I'll tell you someday, but not now. Proceed."

The aide nodded, returning to her work with trepidation. If nothing else, she and the other staff knew when to move forward with their duties under the most trying of times and with little questions. It was why the champion felt he didn't have to worry about Mr. Spiel - he knew the analyst would let him know if there was anything else that required his attention. The same rang true for each and every aide who proved themselves worthy of the chairs they sat upon.

Looks like he didn't have to fire anybody - Smithley chuckled morbidly at that thought. The transition seemed pretty seamless, save for a few minor staff changes. It would, of course, be better if he could implement all of his long term plans at once, but even Almia's former empire wasn't built in a day. Every now and then, there had to be chaos to kick everyone into high gear. The Fiore situation would have to blow over first before the ball got rolling on the  _real_  future.

Reminiscing of simpler times, the most powerful trainer in the world mulled about and watched his staff hard at work. He had given all the instructions he felt were appropriate, and until the captain returned from his briefing with General Howlinger, there was unlikely to be anything else worth his while.

Alder screaming like a little girl, however? He'd pay to have a recording of that.

_Wait..._

Tucking in a mental note, Smithley rubbed his shoulders. His clothing gave him little protection as the room had a brisk air to it, feeling ten degrees colder than it actually was - the dim lighting wasn't doing anybody favors. A revamp was badly overdue, and he was going to probably have the youngest of his Elites - Karen Hall, to do it. Design was more along her alley.

Closing his eyes for a moment, the world champion sifted through ways to diffuse Alder's bluster in anticipation for his next contact with the red-haired retiree. If he could get him to hunker down and out of reach until Lady Platinum and Y could arrive, then things would (probably) be fine. It wasn't as if he hadn't already been thinking - it was one of the reasons he had won this position, what with being able to take in dozens of variables at once. Then there was the problem of the prime minister to contend with, then the approach of United Regions military forces.

Funny. The first time he had begun to think on that kind of level... it had to be the Verdure Cup. Just a little under five years ago, probably.

But the past was the past. The future was now, and the now needed Smithley's help to move forward.

Chaos, indeed.

**~ Chapter End ~**


End file.
